A Forbidden Love
by blackForestGirl
Summary: (Alternate Universe - Non magical) When Sir Arthur Pendragon takes up a quest to rescue his sister Morgana from her abusive husband, he's forced to enlist the help of Sir Merlin Balinor, the best archer in five kingdoms. It's a partnership that will test every strand of his moral fiber, and eventually his understanding of the meaning of duty, honor and love.
1. Chapter 1

**Kingdom Of Ealdor**

The first time Arthur saw him, he was riding on a black horse to the tournament field. His tunic was dark blue with a silver tree spreading embroidered onto the front, identifying him as one of Lord Balinor's sons. Glinting plate armor covered his shoulders, his arms and the top of his legs. Underneath he wore black breeches and boots.

Arthur felt no shame in staring as he took in the appearance of the younger man. The armor he wore was polished but functional. It was well used, not that of a mere peacock knight. A silver girdle hung low on his narrow hips. His frame was slender but Arthur could see the well-shaped muscles under his clothes; there was nothing of the larder on him. He rode his horse as light as a feather. Arthur's eyes dropped to his spurs - gilded. He was a full knight. But of course, Arthur knew well enough that such a thing was expected for a son of the nobility- and not always hard earned.

The current round of the tournament was archery, and the young knight wore no helmet; Arthur could see his nearly black, messy looking, hair and face. It was the finest face Arthur had ever seen - long, narrow and delicate, with full quirked lips, a straight nose and blue eyes. His big ears, the only malformity on his face, somehow fit perfectly with the rest of him. His skin was as pale as cream. There was a rosy cast on his cheekbones; perhaps it was a battle flush in anticipation of the contest.

Arthur knew and valued the importance of first impressions. In his mind there were men made for battle; rough-hewn and crude, but this young knight was definitely a woman-pleaser. He was beautiful in a way Arthur had never seen in a man. In truth, he doubted he'd ever seen anything like it in a woman. He registered the distinctly feminine cheers of welcome the crowd afforded the rider, aptly proving Arthur's point. And then the young knight rode past Arthur- and looked at him.

It wasn't a mere glance. The knight met Arthur's eyes when still twenty paces away and held his gaze, unrelenting, as he rode in front of Arthur. He even turned his head as he passed before letting his gaze finally slip away. Arthur did not back down from the stare, he dropped his eyes for no one. He stood stoically, no emotion showing on his face. It seemed to take forever for the knight to pass, eons in which those blue eyes were locked on Arthur's. They reached inside him and made his stomach clench hard with something.

What did he mean by looking at him thus? They'd never met. Was it a challenge? A welcome to a stranger? The admiration of a knight for another? Had he heard of Arthur's bravery and nobleness? Or had he mistaken Arthur for someone else?

A blacksmith standing beside Arthur asked, "Do you know him? The Raven?"

Arthur frowned. "No. Did you say 'the Raven'?"

The man glanced at Arthur knowingly and chuckled. "Aye, Sire. Poor lad, he's the youngest of four boys and his brothers took all the more favourable names."

Arthur's eyes were drawn back to the Raven as he moved away, tall and straight in the saddle. "The Raven, what's his true name?" Arthur asked the blacksmith.

"His name is Sir Merlin, Sire. Let's go watch him shoot." The blacksmith and his companion hurried away, following the general flow of the crowd toward the archery targets. He paused and gave Arthur a friendly look. "Come and watch? The archery rounds are often the most exciting."

Arthur was tempted. Of course he was curious to see the Raven shoot, to see if he had any skill to match that noble bearing. Caution bid him think better of it. He did not knew the meaning behind his look, but an uneasy feeling warned him that keeping his distance was the most wise course.

"No. I'm off in search for a meal. Good day."

Arthur headed for the food stalls. He was here for a purpose. He needed to put his cause to Lord Balinor and earn his help. His suit was too important - to Morgana and to himself. As Arthur walked away, the _thwunk_ of arrows and the roar of the crowd rose up loud behind him.

ooOoo

"The Champion's purse for archery goes to one of our own, Sir Merlin Balinor!" Lord Balinor held up the coin-filled pouch so the cheering crowd could see it, and handed it to his son.

Merlin made a small, formal bow. "Thank you father."

The crowd cheered happily, and Lord Balinor met his son's gaze and smiled. It was not the sort he gave Merlin's brothers freely and often, but it had a genuine warmth in it all the same.

Merlin's blood rushed through his veins. It had been a pleasant day. He'd won the archery competition easily, and the crowd had supported him wholeheartedly. It was worth the years he'd spent practicing with the bow to finally have a skill that made his father proud.

Lady Kara leaned forward as he passed. Her lips were smooth and perfumed as she gave Merlin a lingering kiss on the cheek. The crowd's murmurs turned into hoots of approval. Merlin ducked his head shyly, which earned him laughs and hearty slaps on the back from his father's men. But he didn't miss the look of disdain his older brothers Will and Malcolm shared.

Let them be jealous, then- or find him goofy; Merlin didn't care. To prove it, he waved the purse at the crowd and did a mock salute, earning him more enthusiastic calls. But as he faced the crowd, Merlin find himself searching for one particular, fascinating face; one with lips not smooth and most definitely not perfumed.


	2. Chapter 2

The knight wearing the red cape with the golden dragon over his armor reappeared in the afternoon. He was competing in a joust against Merlin's brother, Sir Malcolm. The crier announced the knight as Sir Arthur Pendragon, a name Merlin had heard many times before.

Why had Sir Arthur come so far from Camelot for a modest tournament? Was he passing through and looking to win a few coins? Would he be staying longer?

Merlin had seen the knight's face in the crowd on his way to the archery round, and its beauty had stopped his heartbeat for a moment. Even with his visor down, as it was now, Sir Arthur drew attention effortlessly. He was a little shorter than Merlin, broad but well shaped, strong and easily in the saddle. He handled the lance with carefully restrained power. Malcolm was built like a stone wall, like most of Merlin's brothers, and he was one of their best jousters. But Sir Arthur ducked Malcolm's first charge easily and on the second hit Malcolm's shoulder solidly with his lance and sent him tumbling from his horse.

Arthur reined his horse and jumped to the ground, ducked under the center rope and helped Malcolm to his feet. Malcolm removed his helm, red-faced and out of breath. Merlin's brother had a hot temper and he didn't like to lose, but he acknowledged Sir Arthur's win with a small bow and raised Arthur's hand to the crowd. Arthur said something, and to Merlin's surprise his brother laughed. The crowd approved, cheering them both loudly.

Arthur took off his helm and strode to the dais to receive his appreciation from Lord Balinor. Merlin stood near the front of the dais, and he took in the sight. Arthur had golden, short blonde hair, blue eyes, a sharp jawline and full lips. He looked honest, a pleasing openness in his expression that said he would never cross you. Arthur was, in short, everything a knight was supposed to be - noble, powerful and true. He was gorgeous.

Merlin had never seen his equal. Desire awakened in him; that dreaded, hot, heady, unwelcome feeling that betrayed and stung him, like an adder in his chest. Merlin realized he was staring, silently cursed and looked around to be sure he hadn't given himself away. He was relieved to see no one looking at him.

Lord Balinor tossed the purse to Sir Arthur, who caught it easily and bowed. His eyes flickered to Merlin, and Merlin dared a small smile and nod. A shadow came over Arthur's face and he turned his back deliberately, facing the crowd. He waved once more to the people.

Merlin felt the sting as if it were the swift slice of a knife. He turned his head away in disappointment - only to find someone was watching him after all. His brother Mordred's angry and disapproving gaze was focused on him from the back of the dais, his eyes hooded and far too knowing.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hey Folks! So here's the new Chapter - Wohoo! Please let me know what you think about the story so far! :-D**_

Merlin strode heavy-hearted through the castle hallways, only half-hearing the people's congratulations on his win as he passed. He was distracted by thoughts of Sir Arthur Pendragon. The ladies on the dais had been gossiping about Sir Arthur all afternoon. God's blood, but Merlin hated it, hated it all! All of them had only shown their interest in Sir Arthur because he was still unwed. If Merlin were his father's daughter, he would have a good chance of claiming and wedding a knight like Sir Arthur.

As it was, his response to the man was a shameful secret he could only bury deep inside his heart and soul. It was hopeless and dangerous.

And yet, despite knowing this, despite being fully aware of the risk, Merlin had been unable to stop himself looking at Sir Arthur's gorgeous appearance. Once his gazed had locked for the first time with Arthur's, Merlin could not tear himself away. Merlin cursed under his breath as he made his way down to his chamber. Oh he was such a fool.

But at least a gaze was only a gaze. He'd done nothing wrong, truly. Not yet. Dear God, not yet.

A small noise broke through Merlin's thoughts, instinctively his hand reached for his dagger, even as he was spun around and pressed rough against a wall. Mordred's cruel face glared down at him, his muscular arm pressed tight across Merlin's throat. As the arm pressed harder, Merlin let his dagger's sharp tongue slip under his brothers cape and sting his thigh - a show that he was not defenseless. Mordred's eyes narrowed with a gasp of pain, and the pressure on Merlin's throat eased immediately.

Mordred hissed insulting words into Merlin's face. "Are you full with victory, my brother? Does your own pretty glory make you hard?" he sneered.

Merlin gasped in shock as Mordred rammed his knee into his groin. Mordred had always been sadistic, but never before in a sexual context. Merlin thanked his stars that Mordred's attack had cooled his body down after those warm thoughts of Sir Arthur.

"Get off me, Mordred, or I will do more than just a small sting," Merlin threatened.

Mordred sneered but pulled away. "I saw you looking at him." He spat in disgust in Merlin's face.

Merlin shook his head. "I don't know what you mean. You're wrong." But Merlin could feel his face reddening at the accusation.

"Don't deny it. I see through you, Merlin. I know what you are. And I will kill you before you disgrace our father's house."

Merlin swallowed a gasp, trying to keep his expressions neutral. Mordred was always a frightening presence, but Merlin had never seen him so angry, or homicidal.

"I would never dishonor our father," Merlin said coolly, his dagger still in position and ready in his hand.

"Really? That'd best be true, otherwise I will make sure of it." As if to show he had no fear, Mordred reached out and gave Merlin's jaw a caress bitter with disdain. "Remember, I'm watching!"

Merlin jerked his chin away, and Mordred slunk off. Merlin forced himself to calm down, walking to his chamber. But once inside he bolted the door and leaned against it, shivering.

Mordred hated him, had always hated him. But what was the reason for the attack this time? Was it truly the look Merlin had given Sir Arthur from the dais? Or was it the fact that Merlin had won respect? The appreciation from his father? Mordred had always resented any attention Merlin got - that was nothing new.

Then Merlin remembered the affectionate look from Lady Kara, the way her lips had touched his cheek. At the last feast, he'd seen Mordred watching her, his eyes greedy and half-lidded with want. And yes, there had been the bitter taste of jealousy in Mordred's violent attack just now.

Damn! I don't want her! Merlin wanted to open his door and shout it. But Mordred was long gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur had requested a private audience with Lord Balinor. He was impatient and worried about Morgana's safety, but he forced himself to wait. Lord Balinor was his best option. To pass the time, Arthur sparred with the castle's youth in the training field, and conversed with two of Lord Balinor's sons; Sir Malcolm and Sir Will, discussing past battles and defense strategies.

He saw Sir Merlin several times, at a distance. Stolen glances were sent Arthur's way that triggered memories of the gaze they'd shared on the tourney field. And that, in turn, caused Arthur to feel unsettled and angry. Sometimes when he felt Sir Merlin look back at him, Arthur looked firmly in the other direction. Once, when Sir Merlin was clearly trying to talk to him, he pretended he hadn't noticed and walked off. Arthur knew it was cowardly and rude, but he told himself it was better this way, that it would avoid awkwardness. He and Sir Merlin could have nothing in common.

By the fifth night, the other guests had all left. Only Arthur dined with Lord Balinor's family, and could finally have his audience. In the great hall, Lord Balinor sat at a table surrounded by his sons; Malcolm, Will, Mordred and Merlin. Their wives and children, if they had them, sat at another table and Lord Balinor's highest-ranking knights were at a third. It was as private as a castle was likely to get, as Arthur knew. It was now or never.

"Sir Arthur Pendragon. Please stand up and name your request." Lord Balinor commanded once they'd finished the second course.

Arthur wiped his fingers carefully on his napkin and stood. He walked to the front of the table, facing the Lord.

"Lord Balinor. I'm very grateful for having a chance to submit my request." Arthur said, loud and clear.

Lord Balinor nodded. "I only met your father, Lord Uther Pendragon, once. He fares well?"

"He fares exceedingly well, thank you."

Lord Balinor waited for Arthur to go on.

"You may know that my half-sister, Lady Morgana, was wed to Lord Cenred of Essetir. That was ten years ago now."

Lord Balinor narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"We'd received only vague information about her well-being in that time. Then last month we had a visitor from Lord Cenred's castle. He…"

Arthur's voice quivers, and he swallowed. "He spoke of horrible things happened to my sister - beatings, imprisonment, denials of food and water. I'm on my way to Essetir to defend her honor."

Lord Balinor looked thoughtfully at Arthur. "Your father, Lord Uther- is he with you on this matter?"

Arthur spoke coldly. "He had a large debt forgiven by Lord Essetir when he gave Morgana's hand in marriage. He is not interested in repaying it."

Lord Balinor smiled bitterly. "The law regards your sister as her husband's property. Your own father does not support your cause. Yet you expect me to?" His voice was stony and it sent a ripple of shame down Arthur's spine.

"Lord Essetir is our common enemy. I can help you defeat him. I can offer my arm and my shield if you press the matter now. I can-"

Lord Balinor held up a hand, cutting off Arthur. Heat rushed to Arthur's face. His request sounded much less reasonable here in the Great Hall than it had in his head.

"What I may or may not do about Lord Essetir, I will do in my own good time and for my own reasons."

Clearly, this was the end of the discussion. Arthur was bitterly disappointed, but tried to hide his anger.

"I understand, My Lord. Thank you for considering my request. Would you permit me to buy supplies from your castle, and hire a few men? I've never been in Essetir before. I could make good use of a guide."

Lord Balinor opened his mouth to speak. Arthur could see on his face that his answer was not favourable. Before he could say anything, a voice rang out loud and clear from the end of the table.

"I'll go. I've been in Essetir before. I've seen his army in battle and can give advice."

Arthur knew instinctively to whom this voice belonged, even though he had never actually heard it. He felt a hot stirring in his belly as he turned to look at Sir Merlin. He was on his feet, facing his father with stoic determination, his arms clasped behind his back.

"Out of the question," Lord Balinor said dismissively, drinking from his goblet with a frown.

"Father, I know that land better than any of your men," Merlin insisted. "And it's high time we took another look at Lord Essetir's holdings. I'll return with maps, lists of his forces, and-"

Lord Balinor slammed his goblet down and glowered at his youngest son. "I cannot be seen to support this. Sending out my own son-"

"I'll use another name," Merlin said quickly. "And I'll not get near the castle. If I'm caught - and I won't be, you know how slippery I can be - I'll tell no one who I am. You always tell me I need experience. Let me earn it. Please father, let me do this for you."

Lord Balinor looked thoughtful. He...for Heaven's sake, he was considering it! Suddenly Arthur realized it might come to pass. He might be stuck with Sir Merlin Balinor. And as always Arthur spoke before thinking it through.

"With all respect My Lord, I would not want the responsibility of safeguarding your son."

Of course, it was exactly the wrong thing to say. The silence that fell in the hall was deafening, and Arthur could've sworn he could hear the beating of his own heart. Lord Balinor rose slowly to his feet, his face was stormy as a thundercloud.

"My son Merlin," Lord Balinor said stonily, "Is the best archer in five kingdoms. He may not be pick of my loins, but by my honor, he's a knight -and a Balinor!"

Arthur did not dare to look at Sir Merlin, instead he kept his gaze steady on Lord Balinor. "Forgive my rash words, My Lord."

For a long moment, Lord Balinor did not speak. Then one of his sons did for him. "Let the Raven go, father. He needs more dirt on his spurs. And if he can gather intelligence on Essetir, he'll have done something useful for once in his life." Sir Mordred said.

"I am master here. Not one word more on the subject, Mordred!" Lord Balinor barked.

From the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Sir Merlin, remaining standing, determination radiating from him.

"How do you intend to defend your sister's honor without an army?" Lord Balinor asked Arthur coldly.

"Lord Essetir will grant me an audience. I will ask him to release Lady Morgana. If he refuses, I'll challenge him to single combat."

After a short silence Lord Balinor finally came to a decision. "My son, Sir Merlin, will accompany you. I will give you supplies for the journey, but no other men. Merlin will lead you within sight of Essetir's castle and do reconnaissance for me. Merlin you will under no circumstances enter the castle bailey. And if you are caught, you can expect no acknowledgment of blood and no rescue. Is that clear?"

Arthur finally looked at Sir Merlin then. He still stood, arms clasped behind his back, looking at his father. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were alight with excitement. Cursed fool.

"I understand, father. It will not come to that."

"And upon you return, you will wed," Lord Balinor continued. "Lady Kara is besotted with you. Her father has offered me an exceptional dowry. And if not her, you will choose another at once. Do we have a agreement?"

Sir Merlin froze froze for a moment and then took a deep breath. "Yes father."

Lord Balinor waved his hand at Arthur. He was dismissed. He had a feeling Lord Balinor had somehow won that skirmish, Sir Merlin had been fatally wounded, and he himself had been bloody well routed.


	5. Chapter 5

Two days later Arthur rode out of Lord Balinor's bailey with Sir Merlin Balinor at his heels. Merlin looked around as they passed through the gates as though expecting someone. "You have no squire?" Merlin asked.

"My last one just achieved his spurs. I had no time to look for another before the need for this journey arose," Arthur answered curtly. "You?"

"I've not been beyond my father's lands since earning my spurs. So I haven't needed one of my own."

It seemed they'd be building their own fires then, brushing their own horses and hauling their own water - their own being the imperative words. If Merlin expected to be served by Arthur, he would sorely disappointed.

Arthur was musing upon how likely that would be as they left the woods and the path widened to a broad track. Merlin pulled his horse alongside Arthur's. The mere sight of the man annoyed Arthur and made his mood sink lower and lower until his stomach churned with distaste.

Merlin was not wearing his official livery now. Instead, he wore black breeches and boots, a simple blue tunic and an ugly red neckerchief. His armor, along with Arthur's, was stowed on the packhorse Arthur had bought.

And still Merlin sat straight and easy on his horse; the refined line of his silhouetted face in the light of the rising sun, the gracefulness of his hand as it held the reins loosely on his thigh, the depth in his eyes when he glanced toward Arthur - all these spoke of an elegance that was, well, personally offensive.

For God's sake! Arthur did not want to be taking Sir Merlin into danger. And he did not want to be so close to the man. For weeks.

Arthur spoke harsh. "It will be hard going. I intend a punishing pace. I won't stop at taverns - it's only a waste of time and money. It'll be bedrolls on the hard ground, and there may be not enough to eat. It's not too late for you to change your mind."

Merlin looked at him wryly. "Do you really imagine I never traveled before? Never spent nights on the hard ground.?"

"You look like you should be lounging in a woman's bed, being fed grapes."

Merlin only looked shocked for a moment, then his laugh reached Arthur's ears. Merlin covered his mouth with his hand self-consciously.

"I fail to see the joke," Arthur grumbled.

Merlin's laughter faded quickly. "Not many men are so honest."

He sighed, cheer gone, and after a moment Arthur cleared his throat, feeling no less confounded. "It was... generous of you to offer to help me."

Merlin shrugged. "I know the way. You needed a guide. I wanted to get out of my father's sight for a while. So here we are."

Arthur could have asked more questions like - Why did you want to get out of your father's sight? - but that would only lead to…more talking. For now silence seemed wiser.

"Arthur," Merlin said quietly.

Arthur looked at him, forcing himself to meet those blue eyes. They were hard and determined, and they struck an icy chill down his spine.

"Don't underestimate me."

Arthur nodded and set his gaze back on the road ahead.

ooOOoo

By the morning of the third day, Arthur was forced to admit that he had underestimated Sir Merlin Balinor. Merlin took to traveling as effortlessly as he seemed to do everything else. His horse, Aithusa, was an excellent mount, and Merlin treated her well.

He rode long days without grumbling. Indeed, he often rode slightly ahead, as if impatient to see the landscape. He kept his countenance subdued, but his eyes revealed a child's delight in the woods and hills.

Arthur said nothing, but he found himself slowly changing his view of the younger knight, like a man whose eyes were adjusting to a brighter light. Merlin was a hard worker, willing to shoulder more than his fair share, and he never complained.

They quickly fell into a routine in the evenings. Arthur would brush, feed, and water the horses while Merlin gathered firewood and built the fire. Arthur would never confess it, but he preferred the duty with the horses because he was tired and it involved less moving around. Merlin, he knew, must be exhausted as well, but the knight never said so. By the time Arthur had settled the horses, Merlin would have their bedrolls laid out on opposite sides of the fire, a pot of water boiling, and dinner cooking.

The third night out after getting the camp ready, Merlin took a pot from the pack.

"I'll fetch water from the stream."

Arthur grunted his approval. "Good. We should boil the dried meat. It's all we've got left, and it's getting a bit rank."

Merlin gave him a look as if he'd stepped in something foul. Without another word, Merlin took his quiver and bow from the pack and headed off into the woods. Arthur chuckled as he brushed down the horses. So it would seem Merlin will turn up his nose at travel rations after just a few days on the road?

Merlin had been gone barely an hour before he returned with a pot of water in his hands and his bow slung over his back. He set the pot down and unslung his bow, letting three small put plump rabbits drop to the ground.

"This will fill our bellies well enough."

Merlin plopped down by the fire and set to cleaning and dressing the game. Arthur made himself useful by whittling a spit to go over the fire.

The roasted rabbits were delicious. Merlin still made Arthur uncomfortable, but perhaps, Arthur thought, he'd have his uses as a traveling companion.

When the meal was done, Arthur lay back on his bedroll with a contented sigh. It was a warm night, but a gentle cool breeze played hide-and-seek with his face. He sat up and pulled his tunic off and then lay down, welcoming the cool air on his skin.

Arthur had the peripheral vision of a warrior trained for battle, and he noticed, as he stared up at the night sky, that Merlin was lying on his own bedroll watching him. Arthur lowered his eyelids a little and shifted his gaze to the right. Yes, Merlin was definitely staring at him - at his naked chest. Goosebumps broke out over Arthur's body.

He felt a flash of annoyance and turned his head to glare at Merlin, to make a smart remark. But Merlin just rolled on the side, turning his back to him, and went to sleep.

ooOOoo

On the fourth day, they came upon a stream near rapids. Arthur rode up to the edge of it, checking the water.

"It's not deep," he told Merlin, nodding at the opposite riverside. "We can cross."

But when they tried to get the horses to enter the water, they shied away.

"It's the rapids," Merlin said, pointing to the misting white water just slightly downstream. "They don't like the look of it."

Arthur cursed. The bank farther west looked soft and unstable, and the trees were thick. They'd have to backtrack to get around it, and Arthur was not in the mood to lose more time.

"Let's lead the horses," Arthur said while swinging himself down from the saddle.

Merlin did the same, and together they tried to pull the horses into the stream. Dragoon, Arthur's horse, gave a panicked neigh and kicked his front legs into the air. Aithusa and the packhorse simply dug their hooves in like mules, refusing to budge.

"For God's sake!" Arthur roared. "Dragoon has never been a coward before. He's faced legions of axe-wielding Saxons and not batted an eyelash!"

Merlin tried to smother a smile. "Oh, is that so? Well, every horse has his weakness."

"Not mine!" Arthur shouted.

Merlin made a noise like a strangled cough. He looked around, scanning the brush.

"Up there!" He pointed.

An old oak overlooked the stream. One of its enormous limbs had been split, presumably by lightning, and was caught in its upper branches.

"It's high up, and well snagged," Arthur said doubtfully.

Merlin didn't answer. He pushed up the sleeves of his tunic, revealing his surprisingly strong and wiry-looking forearms. He pulled himself up into the tree with strength and agility.

"Watch out for deadly squirrels," Arthur called out.

Merlin just snorted.

Watching him climb, Arthur's perception shifted again with a bone-rattling jolt. Merlin was not soft, he realized. He was a powerful and strong man.

For some reason this shift in perception allowed Arthur to watch Merlin, to keep his eyes steady on the man, unthreatened, for the first time they'd locked gazes on that tournament field. Arthur watched Merlin pull himself up higher and higher, wrestle with the limb, lifting it out of the tree. When the branch was free, Merlin shoved it off onto the bank. As it crashed down, he braced his feet wide on a sturdy limb and looked down at Arthur with a wide grin. His face more open and happy than Arthur had ever seen him.

It was like something new had come to life inside Arthur. Not anxiety, fear, nor confusion this time, but something far steadier; thick as honey and painfully sweet. It felt like such an integral part of him that Arthur didn't even question it. He blinked twice, returned Merlin's smile and moved to place the branch across the river.

With their way to the rapids blocked, the horses crossed without further argument. As they headed down the path on the other side, Arthur felt unusually, blissfully, light of heart.


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin felt like he was in heaven and hell at the same time.

He was away from his father's castle, free from his brothers, free of the need to be on constant guard. It was even better than when he'd travelled with other knights. There he had more than once been the lowest of rank in the camp, his role only to serve and be silent.

There'd also been a few of the knights whom he'd feared. Men who looked at him too intently and for far too long. They would have used him cruelly had they gotten the chance.

Those men had been ugly, crude and cold-blooded. While Merlin might dream, in the deepest parts of his mind, of strong arms holding him and a cock filling him, he knew that those men would bring him nothing but pain and humiliation.

Traveling with Sir Arthur Pendragon was different. For the first time, Merlin was treated like an equal. The looks of approval Arthur bestowed on him had increased since they'd left the castle. They came when he made fire out of wet wood, when he caught game with ease, and when he rode from dawn to dusk without complaint.

The approving looks and Arthur's words of appreciation and praise were like a balm on the torn places in Merlin's soul.

Merlin worked harder, did more, acted like he was never tired just to see the respect shining in Arthur's blue eyes.

And yet... Beside his freedom, this quest was a torture for him too. Ignoring his desires in the castle, where there was a constant danger of discovery, and unguarded moments were non-existent, was difficult.

But with Arthur looking at him with such warmth in his eyes, with his generosity and his kindness towards Merlin... That was something different. Those long, lovely, aggravating and _bewildering _looks made Merlin hope and yearn. If he thought Sir Arthur handsome before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now.

Arthur's body seemed to call Merlin to wrap his arms around it. His eyes hypnotized him, and his lips made Merlin's own itch with the need to press against them.

Looking away did not help. Merlin was never less than half-hard. Fortunately Arthur had only caught him only once in the last days as he took himself in hand. He'd been good-natured about it, clueless that he was the inspiration for the act.

His brothers were never troubled by their lust. If they wanted a maid, they pulled her into their lap and began pawing her. But Merlin's desires were another matter. They were like hidden daggers turned inward, and he knew if he pressed forward, he might just bleed to death.

Especially with Arthur.

To make an advance on another knight could prove deadly. If Arthur was only slightly offended, Merlin would go home in shame. He would have let Arthur down. He wouldn't be able to fulfil his pledge to help Arthur rescue his sister. Arthur would cast him away and carry on alone - with even less of chance than he already had.

So Merlin resigned himself to silence. As he always had.

He would say and do nothing about his feelings until the business with Arthur's sister ended. If they both survived he might make it clear to Arthur. A kiss of celebration. Or a whisper; _I want you. _

The possibility of rejection was terrifying. Merlin had never dared make his interest known to a man before. Then again, he'd never desired anyone so, or been as wracked with speculation and doubts. He'd gladly take rejection over the constant wondering and wishing, pondering the meaning behind Arthur's every glance.

It was a reasonable plan. But one was flawed at its very core. One or both of them might not survive the confrontation with Cenred. Even if they did, they would then be traveling with Arthur's sister. If there were even a small chance that the handsome knight returned Merlin's interest, now could be their only chance to indulge in it.

Merlin dared not consider any choice other than continue to prove himself to Arthur. He would wish, and wait.


	7. Chapter 7

After a fortnight of hard riding, the pair had traveled a fair distance. The past two days they'd ridden until nightfall, and Merlin'd had no chance to hunt game. By the fifteenth night of their journey, Arthur saw the exhaustion in the horses and decided to stop a little early.

"We'll stay here for the night," he said as they reached a small clearing.

"Aye, Aithusa could use the rest," Merlin agreed.

They dismounted and Merlin looked at the sun, now low in the sky.

"I'll go hunt a decent meal, if you've nothing important for me to do."

Arthur smiled warmly, making Merlin's insides turn as hot and soft as tallow. "Can't think of anything more important than that. My stomach will thank you for it. I'll start a fire."

Nodding and shoving down the familiar rising want, Merlin wandered into the woods.

When he returned, Arthur had the horses settled and fed and a fire going. A cloth sling hung around Merlin's middle, filled with game. He untied it and dropped it by the fire.

"How about pheasant this evening, My Lord?" Merlin's face shone with pride.

Arthur opened the bundle. "That's a fat beauty! I'm so hungry, I could eat it raw."

Merlin dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of plump brown mushrooms. "We could always cook it."

Arthur looked at the mushrooms warily. "You know your way around these things, I hope?"

"Of course. Any archer knows of the poisons in the woods. They're really useful for tipping arrows. These mushrooms, however, are perfectly harmless. Believe me." Merlin popped one in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "If I'm not dead by the time the bird is cooked, you will know I'm right. As for dessert…" He took another cloth from inside his tunic and opened it. "Blackberries."

At the sight of the plump, dark and plentiful berries, Arthur's stomach made a loud growl of approval. Merlin deserved praise, and Arthur was more than happy to lavish it on him.

"I'm beginning to think you're part forest creature, Merlin." Arthur said in a teasing tone.

"Would that I were. I'd be happy to live here forever." Merlin's tone was lighthearted, but something told Arthur he wasn't joking.

"I'll clean the bird," Arthur said. He reached for the pheasant and took out his knife. He'd let Merlin prove himself, but it wasn't fair to take advantage of the younger man's willingness to do all the dirty work.

"I'll wash the mushrooms then. Do we have any wine left to make a sauce?"

"Aye. Enough for the sauce and more besides."

Arthur felt a tingling warmth as Merlin looked at him with a sparkle in his eyes. He ducked his head and focused his attention on the bird.

In comparison to the past fortnight, this meal was a feast. After they ate they stayed by the fire, passing the wine back and forth. Arthur felt a contentment he hadn't in years. Even his concern about Morgana had faded to a low murmur. Such a pleasant evening was rare happenstance and he knew to value it. The joy, and maybe the wine, made him unusually friendly and talkative.

"You said you were eager to leave your father's castle. Why?" he asked.

Merlin tossed a blackberry into his mouth, "My family is not fond of me."

Arthur frowned. "How can that be? You're a fully trained knight. You excel at archery. The crowd at the tournament loved you from the cries I heard. Especially the maidens."

Arthur said this last with a wink, but a sad, sardonic smile traced Merlin's lips. "Things are different to how they appear to outsiders."

"Then tell me how it really is." Arthur wasn't sure he should press so much, but he felt in the mood for conversation. Besides, he truly wanted to know more about Merlin.

"Well then… My brother Mordred wants my death," Merlin said with no emotion. "The others would just as soon have me gone. My father has always loved and hated me in equal amounts."

"But... Sir Mordred supported your request to come with me."

Merlin barked a harsh laugh. "Well, my apologies, Arthur, but it did sound a rather hopeless cause. It'd be easier for him if someone else sticks the knife in my ribs."

Arthur didn't ask any more, but he wondered. Why would Sir Mordred want Merlin dead? Had Merlin stolen his beloved's heart? Or was there something else?

As if sensing his confusion, Merlin spoke again. "All my brothers share the same mother, Lady Helen. She was my father's first wife and died of a fever."

He took a slug of wine and continued. "My mother was Lady Hunith, my father's second wife. He had her for only one year before I was born. She died in childbirth. He has never forgiven me. And my brothers - they hated my mother for replacing their own - and for the same reason, me."

Arthur's heart ached at the placid, frozen expression on Merlin's face. Merlin had learned to school his emotions well.

"My mother also died when I was young," Arthur said. "That's why I'm so close to Morgana. She was younger than me, but she raised us both in my mother's stead. I am sorry, Merlin."

Merlin shrugged. "They say I look like a great deal like her."

"She must have been a very great beauty."

When Merlin looked at him in surprise, Arthur felt his face redden. "What I mean to say is… you do not resemble your brothers or your father."

"No. I am nothing like them. I was ever smaller, weaker. Not a real man."

Arthur felt ashamed - he'd been guilty of the same prejudice. But he meant it now when he said, "you are a real man, Merlin. A good man."

"I made myself strong, but… it was never enough for them."

"Damn your family, they are all fools! You're an excellent hunter. And a hard worker too." Arthur said it with conviction and Merlin smiled into the fire, but it was a sad smile. For long moments they sat listening to the crackle of the burning wood and the nearby hooting of an owl.

Arthur stretched out his legs toward the fire and accepted Merlin's offer of the last swig of wine.

"We have slain the mighty wine bladder," Arthur said, hanging it upside-down.

"It died a noble and selfless death." Merlin grinned.

Arthur snorted. The mood sobered as he thought about what Merlin had said. He flushed with shame when he remembered how it had felt to stand in front of Lord Balinor and admit that his own father had refused to help Morgana.

"I'm glad you told me why you joined my hopeless cause, that you wished to leave home. It's good to know a man's motives."

"Arthur… that… that is not the only reason I came with you."

Merlin's voice was quiet, but something in it made the hair on the back of Arthur's neck stand up. He looked at Merlin. Merlin stared back at him - and their gazes held.

Arthur was used to Merlin avoiding eye contact. Not this time. Arthur gazed into those eyes, caught by a pull he couldn't break. And what he saw in those deep blue eyes was an undeniable invitation. Heat jumped from Merlin to Arthur, spreading through him, pooling heavily in his groin, and causing his pulse to race like a bolting horse.

Arthur swallowed and tore his gaze away. He could feel his face blazing as he struggled to control his body and his thoughts.

"It's late," Arthur said. His voice did not sound like his own. "We should rest."

He got up and, without looking at Merlin, began his nightly preparations.


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur lay sleepless that night, watching the dying embers of the fire. He couldn't stop thinking, especially not with the focus of his thoughts only a few feet away. It wasn't only Merlin's unusual beauty that provoked Arthur. If he were merely a pretty doll with a cold heart, Arthur could have dismissed him. But no, there was something about Merlin… Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on it.

A warmth, sweetness, and vulnerability in his blue eyes. The hint of shyness and a need to please that sometimes showed through the mask of cold strength he wore like a cloak.

Arthur felt almost bewitched at times, so strong was the urge to protect Merlin. He found excuses to stare at him, to touch him, or make him smile.

Worst of all, it was not only his own desire Arthur had to guard against. He was beginning to feel certain that Merlin- that Merlin was- that he was a lover of men, and that Merlin wanted Arthur too.

Arthur's cock throbbed and ached. He groaned in frustration and turned onto his stomach, grinding his erection into the cold and stony ground. He would discourage with pain what he could not seem to discourage by duty and logic.

Sir Arthur Pendragon would not dishonor himself, nor Merlin. He would _not_.

It felt like he'd been asleep only a few hours, and the moon was still high, when someone gently shook Arthur's shoulder. He woke and made to speak, but a hand covered his mouth. Merlin's face was inches from his own.

"Outlaws," He whispered.

Arthur's hand instinctively reached for his sword even as he blinked into alertness. He strained his ears and heard a soft sound from the brush, barely audible.

Arthur rose in one swift move, grabbed his scabbard and unsheathed his sword as quietly as possible. The metal sang in the quiet of the night. He and Merlin shifted so they were back-to-back in the moonlit clearing.

For a few moments there was only silence. Arthur stood with his sword drawn and Merlin with his bow at the ready, the heat of him pressed against Arthur's back.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder. "It's not necessary when guarding my back to press so firmly into it," he said teasingly.

Merlin said nothing, and Arthur looked away. He'd only enough time to register that Merlin's warmth had gone before there was a shout and the attack began.

Arthur's eyes had adjusted to the night, and the light of a full moon turned the world in a silvery blue. He could see well enough, and what he saw was that they were outnumbered. Five men came out of the woods, each of them rough and vicious-looking. _Bloody hell!_

Maybe they had been honourable soldiers once, but now they looked eager to skin Arthur and Merlin alive for everything they had.

_Merlin_.

Arthur felt a sudden stab of fear for Merlin, and he glanced around. With any knight in this situation, he'd prefer to fight back-to-back. But Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

Arthur felt a surge of disappointment, surprising in its acuteness. He had started to trust Merlin, but the young knight was a coward after all. It was true that the odds stank. But no true knight deserted a comrade in battle.

The five outlaws drew in tighter, two of them moving around to encircle Arthur. He raised his broadsword above his right shoulder and half crouched. Arthur waited, letting the anger and bloodlust curl in his veins and infuse his body with energy. He would let his attackers make the first move.

_And damn, where was Merlin?_

The two men directly in front of Arthur raised their swords and rushed forward. It happened so fast that Arthur had taken several breaths before he realised what had taken place.

The largest outlaw, directly in front of him, suddenly jerked back like a fish on a hook. An instant later the man next to him clutched his throat, gurgling. Through the grasping hands, Arthur saw a feathered shaft.

_Arrows_. Merlin had not left him.

With a grin and a roar, Arthur spun around, swinging his sword. One of the outlaws stumbled back to avoid it while another, a man who had not been _near_ Arthur, clutched at his throat and fell to his knees.

Arthur looked at the dying man, a tad annoyed. The last two outlaws were running now. Arthur took up the chase with a battle cry, determined to sunder _something_. He heard the arrows coming just before they hit - _thwunk, thwunk_ \- mere seconds apart. The remaining outlaws went down, one with an arrow piercing his heart. The other took a shaft in the shoulder. He clutched at it with a scream of pain and stumbled on. A moment later a second arrow through the back finished the job.

Arthur stood in the clearing, his sword pointed at nothing, breathing hard. He looked around at the five corpses and scratched his head. A lithe figure separated from the shadows of the trees and approached.

"Damn… Must I explain to you the etiquette of battle?" Arthur said angry as Merlin joined him.

The younger knights cheeks were flushed with excitement. Merlin blinked at him, his proud smile faltering. "Uh-"

"It's considered polite to leave me _at least one_!" Arthur shouted. He thrust the tip of his sword in the ground, underscoring his point.

Merlin bit his lower lip. "I-I'm sorry, Arthur. I guess I got caught up."

"You… you got caught up."

Merlin looked around at the bodies. "Well… five is not that many. I could have taken out twice that in as much time."

"A-Are you saying I was too slow?" Arthur gasped.

"No! I…" Merlin looked at him, aghast, but then saw the grin Arthur was fighting to hide.

Arthur pulled Merlin in with a strong hand around the back of his neck and knocked their foreheads together.

"You're a bloody show-off! Trying to impress me, eh?"

Merlin leaned into the touch, almost stumbling off his feet. But Arthur pulled away, suddenly aware of their proximity. Merlin had the grace to look abashed.

"Well… I may have been showing of a… little."

"I may have been a little impressed. And in the moonlight too!"

"Nah… It wasn't that good," Merlin protested modestly.

Arthur went to the nearest corpse and searched the body. He found a large, soft pouch and tore it off the man's belt. Opened, it revealed a nest of some sort. There were still a few embers in the fire pit, and Arthur took it over to get a better look. The pouch was full of hair - human hair, a dozen colours at least, matted together.

Arthur's good mood faded, and he looked up into Merlin's cold eyes and clenched jaw.

"Murdering bastards. They deserved their deaths," Merlin said darkly. Arthur nodded.

There was no point remaining at the camp, now scattered with corpses. Dragging the bodies into the woods would not be enough to deter wildlife, or ease their minds. Neither of them wanted to linger. They stripped the outlaw's weapons, wrapped them in cloth and stored them on the packhorse. Then they packed up their own supplies and headed out, with hours to go before dawn.


	9. Chapter 9

They rode along a wide road into a town. Merlin took in as many of the sights he could, pleased at Arthur's slow pace. He'd passed through this town before, but he'd been with an army and they hadn't stopped. Now Merlin strained for an eyeful of the old stone church and the half-timbered shops that lined the main road.

Their arrival gathered an audience. The town's citizens watched them ride by. Travelers were not a common sight, particularly not two knights. Particularly not a knight who looked as handsome as Sir Arthur Pendragon did, riding on Dragoon in his dark red quilted gambeson.

They passed a young mother and toddler, both rosey-cheeked, both staring at them openly. Merlin glanced at Arthur. The rumour at the tournament had been that Arthur wasn't married, but Merlin found that hard to believe.

"Uhm… Have you a wife and babes at home?" he asked carefully.

"No."

"Why not? You're of an age for it."

"Haven't met a woman who makes me want to wed. And I like my freedom." Arthur gave Merlin a cheeky grin, but it rang a bit false all the same.

Merlin knew he should let it go. But he couldn't, not when his curiosity was already aroused. "Have… have you ever lain… with a woman?" Merlin asked.

Arthur barked a scoffing laugh. He then looked around nervously, as if worried someone might overhear. "Of course. What do you take me for?"

Merlin shrugged. "I've never lain with anyone." He tried to sound like he was making casual conversation, but didn't quite manage it.

Arthur's body tensed and he kept his eyes focused on the road. "I find that hard to believe. The maids at your father's castle seemed eager for your attentions."

Merlin said nothing , until his own cowardice and this stupid game made him angry. He pulled ahead of Arthur and stared back at him, determined.

"Haven't met a woman who make me want to swive."

Arthur looked uncomfortable. He glanced around but they were on a quiet street now, almost out of the town, and no one was there to overhear them.

"Then close your eyes if you must. It's all the same in the dark."

Arthur sounded like he spoke from experience. Merlin's heart tripped in his chest. Was it brotherly advice? Or the advice of a man who shared his inclinations?

Merlin lifted his chin and spoke a challenge. "What if I don't want to close my eyes?"

Arthur missed, or deliberately ignored his meaning. "You're to be wed on your return home. Maybe… you wife will please you."

"Mayhap I will not return home."

Arthur looked surprised. "Oh? Where would you go?"

"There must be a lord in need of an archer - somewhere far away from my father's land." Merlin would not go back to the way things were before. Not if he could avoid it.

Arthur grunted. "Assuming I'm still alive at the end of this journey, you _will _return home. I'll will not have your father as an enemy. What you choose to do afterwards… well, that's your own affairs."

Merlin was not in a good mood as they left the town. Arthur's words worried him. _Assuming I'm still alive…_ The closer they drew to Essetir, the more Merlin worried what would happen when they got there.

Merlin and Arthur rode side by side on the wide track. After a long silence between them, Merlin broached the subject foremost in his mind.

"When we got to Essetir's castle, do you really intend to ask for an audience?"

"Yes, I do."

"And you will tell him that you wish to take Morgana home for a visit?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the road in front of him. "I will tell him I have to come to take Morgana and her children back home because he has treated her despicably and has no honor."

Merlin stared at the older man. "Bloody hell! You would."

Arthur frowned at him. "What would you have me say?"

"Say that your father is quite ill. You wish to take Morgana and the children to visit him on his deathbed. He can't refuse that."

Arthur pursed his lips. After a long pause, he spoke. "That sounds like not a bad plan. But I dislike standing in a man's hall and lying. A knight does not lie. And even if Essetir bought the tale, he'd be a fool to allow all three of them to go. He'd keep the children, so Morgana would have no choice but to return."

Merlin tilted his head in acknowledgment. He'd already thought as much. "Are you sure Morgana would not leave the children? If she hates her husband so much-"

"Never," Arthur said without a trace of doubt. "Not Morgana. No matter what their father has done."

Merlin's chest tightened. Worse and worse. "You wouldn't seriously challenge Lord Essetir to single combat?"

"I must. I can't raise an army to defeat him. My only option is to get him fight me man-to-man."

"Bloody hell! You cannot challenge a lord in his keep. He'll have his guard grab you and behead you on the spot. Or perhaps he'll lock you in the dungeon for a slow death!"

"That's enough! Arthur snapped. "This is my own affair."

Merlin didn't argue. They rode on for a bit, and Merlin felt his stomach churn with anger. It was even worse than he'd suspected. Arthur's sense of honor was sure to get him killed. Merlin could not bear the thought of it, if only for the sake of Arthur's kindness to him, if naught else. And there was more - much more. He had to convince Arthur he was wrong.

"Listen," Merlin said, taking on a softer tone. "The lesson I learned in my youth was this - when you do not have the advantage in size and power, you must use your wits and cunning. I don't suppose that's a lesson you were ever forced to learn."

Arthur arched a brow, amused. "Are you saying I lack cunning?"

Merlin laughed. "I'm saying you've probably never lacked for power. But such trickery as I have had to learn? Yes, you do lack it. Don't ask for Morgana - steal her."

Arthur frowned, a deep crease on his brow. "Subterfuge would be difficult. He knows my face."

"But not mine."

Arthur reined his horse, stopping abruptly. His scowl was fierce. "You, Merlin Balinor, are not going into that castle. I gave my word to your father."

"You did not," Merlin said coolly. "I did. Or rather, he ordered it of me. I never gave my pledge."

Arthur looked surprised as he recalled the exact conversation with Lord Balinor. "And it means nothing to you to disobey your father's order's? To break your fealty?"

Merlin felt his face flush with a surge of bitter rage. "I keep faith with those who have kept faith with me."

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "God save me from ever having sons like you."

"I would wish it on no men," Merlin said sincerely.

Arthur started riding again, but his face was set. "It matters not what I promised or did not promise to your father. I won't endanger you, Merlin. This is not your fight, and I won't have your death on my soul."

"I may not know your sister, but I know _you_," Merlin said. "This is my fight now, whether you will it or not. I won't have _your _death on _mine_."

Arthur's jaw clenched stubbornly. "I will proceed as I have stated."

"Then you will die and Morgana will loose all hope."

Arthur said nothing. They rode in silence for over an hour, until the sun was high in the sky.

Merlin said, teasing, "I will use all my wiles on the problem."

"Now _that_ is frightening," Arthur said.

Merlin chuckled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello lovely Followers of the story, finally here is the new chapter. It's really long - but it's worth the wait because - smut ahead. Have fun to read! And comments are very welcome, they made my day. Sincerely, Chrissi**

Three weeks into their journey, they had to cross the river Kilgharrah. There was no ferry running and the alternative was a day's ride out of their way, so Arthur and Merlin decided to swim the horses across. But it was late in the afternoon, and they'd been riding since dawn.

"Let's camp here," Arthur decided. "Better to cross the river in the morning. It will be safer and the horses will be rested. And we'll have all day to let the sun dry us."

"As you say." For once, Merlin and Aithusa looked tired. It was a hot day, and the archer, glistening with sweat, gazed at the river longingly from his horse.

"Let's set the camp away from the bank, so no one drifting by will see us," Arthur said.

They found a small clearing in the woods not far from the river and tended the horses together in silence. It was still too early for supper, and there was none of the usual haste to set up the camp before nightfall.

Arthur glanced at Merlin as he finished feeding Aithusa. "Go bathe while it's light. I'll finish with the horses and start the fire."

"No, you go. I'll make the fire," Merlin offered.

"You're not my servant, Merlin. I can start the goddamned fire for once. Go on, before I pick you up and toss you in the water myself."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but the look on Arthur's face stopped him. He grinned and gave a courtly bow. "As you wish, _Sire._" He took some soap from his saddlebags and ran off toward the river.

Arthur chuckled to himself. He stretched and started looking around for wood, his heart inexplicably light. Gathering the wood did not take long. Arthur dumped it all in the centre of the clearing and paused for a moment. The sun was still high, the day warm. It would be a waste of wood to start the fire now. Besides, he, too, was hot and sweaty, and the river beckoned. With a lazy grin, Arthur answered.

When Arthur stepped from the woods onto the stony riverbank, his excitement of a bath snuffed out like a candle in a storm. Merlin was completely naked and hip-deep in the water, soaking and scrubbing at his arms with a cloth and lye soap.

Arthur's knees forgot how to support him. It would be cowardly to retreat into the forest now, even if he had the will to do so, which he did not. Neither could he bear to disturb this vision. Arthur crept over to a large, flat rock on the riverbank, sat, and watched.

_Bloody Hell. _Clothed, Merlin was striking. Naked, he was inhuman - a heavenly vision. His shoulders and arms were well-shaped with toned muscles. His chest and stomach were so thin and pale that every ridge, curve, and nuance that lay beneath the skin was visible.

He looked like a male nymph, a child of gods.

Merlin dunked under the water, rinsing himself. He then floated onto his back, legs kicking. His hips raised to the surface, revealing his cock, which was long and thick and half-hard.

Arthur drew in a ragged breath. Perfect. Merlin was so bloody perfect. He was unique, a rose blooming on a frozen tundra. Had Merlin been a woman, he might have married a king.

He could inspire ballads. He could inspire wars.

Arthur watched bewitched, as Merlin's lazy kicks spun him closer to the riverbank. He stood, water streaming down his skin, his partial erection all the more noticeable.

Merlin looked down at himself with a musing, distant look, his thoughts far away. His hand skimmed down his chest to grasp himself with a small, secret smile. He glanced up then, toward the woods, as if to verify he was alone - and froze when he saw Arthur sitting in the rock.

Merlin's hand fell from his cock in horror, and then both hands came up to cover it. His cheeks stained scarlet, sending red tendrils as far down as his jar. He spun so his back was to Arthur.

"I was going to ask if the water is cold," Arthur teased, his voice deep and rough. "Evidence suggests that it is not."

"I didn't know you were there," Merlin said, a rather obvious statement.

For a moment Merlin seemed frozen with panic or indecision. He did not turn around - but neither did he walk farther into the river to cover himself. His shoulders relaxed somewhat and then… then he shifted ever so slightly, his back stiffening in confidence as if he were saying _Look at me, then_.

The air grew heavy and charged. Arthur felt it thickening around him even as he blinked in dazed appreciation of his new view. He stared in awe at the shape of Merlin's back. His shoulders were almost too broad for his slender frame, the torso narrowing to his girlishly slim waist. The flesh dimpledat the small of his back, and then swelling again into the plush curves of his arse.

Arthur had been hard since he first glimpsed Merlin in the river. Now, a powerful lust curled around Arthur's chest and groin like a constricting snake, and squeezed. He couldn't breathe.

Arthur realised that he was standing on a knife's edge. In the weeks they'd travelled together, without Arthur even realising it, his resolve had been all but eaten away. He wanted Merlin, and he was a hair's breadth from taking him.

Arthur stood and headed for the woods.

"Arthur." Merlin's voice rang out, stopping him in his tracks.

Arthur paused, his back to the river. He couldn't look.

"They call you the Lion. I wouldn't have expected you to be such a dog-hearted coward." Merlin spat, voice trembling with distain.

Those words, those outrageous, inflammatory words, made Arthur tremble, hands clenched.

No man spoke to him like that.

Arthur had an imperative urge to stride into that river and grab Merlin. To push him, tackle him, hold him down, make him take it back - those words - to make him _beg_. To take him, to crush him, to kiss him.

To _fuck_ him.

Arthur's trembling fingers scrabbled at the laces of his tunic, and, with a muttered curse he ripped it over his head and _threw_ it. He yanked off one boot, then the other, hurling them at the trees, causing birds to take flight in alarm. He yanked his breeches down, stepping out, now fully naked. In his rage, Arthur felt not the slightest prickle of shame.

Merlin was wide-eyed as Arthur stormed into the water. He put his hands up in front of himself, as if to ward Arthur off, but his expression betrayed his eagerness. Merlin gazed up and down Arthur's approaching form with unmistakable hunger.

Arthur grabbed Merlin's upper arms and pulled Merlin up, holding him so their faces were at the same level. Arthur didn't bring Merlin close, just held him, firm. He glared, growling low in his throat.

Merlin licked his lips, looking nervous. But his eyes blazed with desire, and they fell from Arthur's eyes to linger on his lips and then down to the muscles of his chest. As Merlin met Arthur's eyes again, it was abundantly clear that he wasn't going to struggle. He wouldn't try to resist or even defend himself with that wicked tongue. Merlin tilted his head back slightly, his eyes going half-lidded, baring his throat.

_Bloody Hell_. Merlin was more beautiful than anything in the heavens or on the earth. And Arthur's anger merged with a desire so strong it was painful.

"Do you… want me?" Arthur asked through gritted teeth. He wanted to do this, he _had_ to, but he wouldn't take what was not freely offered.

"Since the first time I saw you on the jousting field and every minute since," Merlin answered.

Arthur pulled Merlin close, wrapped him in his arms, and kissed him. _Oh_, the feel of Merlin in his arms. Arthur presed that beautiful body against his as firmly as he could without causing harm. Merlin's skin was warm above his waist from the heat of the sun and cool below from the river. The lean strength of him, the flat chest against his own, the hard cock pressed next to his, felt so right and perfect. It filled Arthur with shivers of delight and brought a stinging heat to the back of his eyes.

Oh. Arthur was so lost.

He licked at Merlin's lips, tasting him. His mouth was warm like a summer day and earthy like the woods and… innocent. Merlin was eager, almost frantic with desire. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders in a painful hold, and crushed his lips to Arthur's.

How was it possible that no one had ever kissed this man? The thought brought a wave of tenderness, and Arthur softened his hold. He pressed his palms flat on Merlin's back and relaxed his grip. Merlin was having none of it. He pulled himself in tighter and began to rut against Arthur's stomach in desperation. His cock was still slightly slippery from the water as it rubbed against Arthur's dry skin. Arthur groaned, wanting to give Merlin what he needed, what they both needed. He turned and started for the riverbank, following a deep instinct to lay Merlin down on the ground and take him.

But then Arthur stopped - Merlin was not a woman. He didn't actually know what to do. Arthur knew it was possible to take a man's arse, but he wasn't sure how the thing was done, not without brutality and pain. So he swallowed down his pressing need and carried Merlin deeper into the water.

Merlin couldn't believe he'd challenged Arthur like that. It was a dangerous gamble. But he just… he couldn't stand it anymore, all the dancing around and denial. No man was meant to suffer so much for the want of love. It wasn't fair.

Ever since the night they'd talked at the fire, Merlin had been sure their attraction was mutual. Well, almost sure. What he'd seen in Arthur's eyes that night convinced him that Arthur wanted him. He'd seemed as aroused as Merlin himself. When he'd caught Arthur watching him on the riverbank, desire written all over his face, Merlin had _needed. _ He wasn't going to accept another diversion. So he had pushed at Arthur, using the older man's own anger against him.

And Merlin had won. It was Arthur's colors that lay now, muddied, on the tournament field. In his victory, Merlin only felt desire to surrender completely, to let Arthur take him and do whatever he willed. _Anything, _as long as Arthur didn't pull away, as long as this heady feeling didn't end.

Merlin pressed himself hard against Arthur's broad frame. Nothing in Merlin's entire life had prepared him for how this felt - so safe, so wondrous, so arousing. Arthur's skin was smooth silk over hard muscle. His lips were as soft as Merlin had imagined they would be. His tongue stroked in Merlin's mouth, and every caress spurred Merlin's need higher and higher. Arthur's cock was as hard as the river stones had been beneath Merlin's feet. Arthur was that hard_ for him_.

Merlin rutted helplessly against Arthur's stomach and along the side of his shaft. The friction on his aching cock was so pleasurable he couldn't still his hips or hush his cries.

Arthur began to carry Merlin toward the riverbank, but then suddenly they were moving deeper into the water. Arthur pulled his mouth away.

"Put your legs 'round me," he said as the water crept up to Merlin's waist.

Merlin did. He wrapped his legs around Arthur's hips as he'd long dreamed of and recaptured Arthur's mouth, desperate for the taste of him. The cool water lapped between Merlin's legs and tickled the undersides of his bollocks. It was marvellous, but the new position meant his cock was not pressed as close against Arthur's stomach. Merlin whined in frustration and tilted his hips, trying to get closer.

"Arthur," Merlin begged.

Arthur groaned in answer and half swam backward, pulling them in deeper.

"By my sword, what you make me feel," Arthur growled. He pulled Merlin in tight, hands on his arse, and ground them together. _Yes. There._

The sheer sexual pleasure of the friction from Merlin's sensitised cock rubbing against Arthur's stomach was so much more intense than anything Merlin had ever felt. Merlin was in awe. Lost in the sensation of being in Arthur's arms, the heat of his lips and tongue. Waves of delight rocked through Merlin as their cocks rutted against their bodies.

Then Arthur, with a moan, removed one hand from Merlin's arse and pushed it between them, taking them both in his hands. Merlin threw back his head at the sensation. Those strong, calloused fingers gripped him and pressed him against Arthur. Frantic moans that poured from his throat.

"Merlin, look at me," Arthur ground out.

Merlin struggled to keep his eyes open, watching Arthur's face.

"Need to see your eyes. So beautiful," Arthur panted.

"Arthur." Merlin stared into Arthur's piercing blue eyes. The level of intimacy in the act shattered him.

"You're so beautiful, Merlin. So fine. You should know that. You should-"

The words were too tender, too much. They tipped Merlin over the edge.

"_Ah! _Oh God!" Merlin squeezed his eyes shut as his orgasm overtook him. Hot come streamed into the cool river tide.

"Look at me!" Arthur cried.

Merlin forced his eyes open, still in the throes of his release, and he saw Arthur's pleasure wash across his face. His cock pulsed against Merlin's. Merlin drew his hand down to the head of Arthur's cock. He had to feel it, needed the proof of Arthur's desire. The come struck his palm with surprising force even underwater. It was such a vulnerable, erotic thing that Arthur let him see, let him feel. Arthur held Merlin's gaze, eyes never straying until the last of the ecstasy had faded from them.

Merlin had changed. He knew he could never go back to the person he'd been just an hour ago, for some part of him, some fear or doubt, had gone forever. But as their bliss faded, Merlin felt familiar insecurity rise. He wanted to bury his face in Arthur's neck and feel their heartbeats slowing together in the warm circle of Arthur's arms. Merlin feared that with Arthur's passion spent, his denial would return. He was going to look at Merlin like he was perverted and wrong. Merlin tried to pull away.

"No," Arthur said, pressing him tight.

Merlin stiffened. When it became clear Arthur was not going to release him, Merlin relaxed in his arms with a sigh.

"I wish you could see yourself as I see you," Arthur said quietly.

"How do you see me?"

Arthur stroked his back. "Perfect in every way. If I could freeze time and place, I would choose this moment and this river, with you."

At the words, Merlin's heart felt a stab of joy so acute that it hurt. He also heard what Arthur had not said - _but we cannot freeze time, and this cannot last._

Merlin pushed the thought away, refusing to let it mar his happiness. He placed his hands on Arthur's waist, relishing the feel of the taut skin under the water. _Say what you like. You are mine and forever will be._

"And you are my perfection," Merlin said. Quickly, so Arthur couldn't reply, he added, "Now let me loose, and I'll hunt us a fine dinner."


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry it took a while - but finally here's the new chapter!**

They made camp in companionable silence. Merlin caught four rabbits in the forest, and Arthur presented a loaf of bread. They shared a pungent red wine Arthur had purchased with the bread at a tavern a day ago. There was no need for idle conversation.

When Merlin made to several feet away from him at dinner, Arthur beckoned him closer. As they ate, they bumped knees and elbows, but neither moved to put distance between them.

Now that Arthur had done what he'd fought against doing for the past weeks, there was no undoing it. He would not waste time on regretting it. He didn't feel ashamed or confused. He felt… protective. He wanted to shield Merlin from any more pain, including the pain Merlin obviously expected from Arthur.

Arthur would never be cruel, not to Merlin, not deliberately. But he didn't need to be, because the situation was cruel enough. Arthur felt a knot of sorrow form under his ribs. He knew how briefly this thing between them would last. It had to be brief, for Merlin's

own good if not for the sake of Arthur's honour. But that made him all the more greedy for every moment of it.

He'd heard the troubadours sing of love. He understood the notion of courtly love, had seen some of his friends pine for their beloveds. Arthur had never met a woman who made him lose his head like that. But he could lose his head over Merlin. Perhaps he already had.

_And you are my perfection_, Merlin had said. That infant bud of sorrow grew just a little more.

It was dark when they finished dinner, and with no plate or cup to fill his hands, they felt wrongly empty when Merlin was only a breath away. Arthur slipped an arm round Merlin's waist, relishing the slender solidity of him. When Merlin did not object, Arthur pulled him close. They had not talked about what had happened, and Arthur's sense of duty pushed him to rectify that.

He cleared his throat. "If you were a woman, I would already before your father on bended knee."

Merlin was silent for a moment. "Have you ever touched a man before?"

"No, never."

"But you've wanted to."

"It's wrong in the eyes of God," Arthur said firmly, to explain himself. "I cannot regret you Merlin. I will never regret what happened today. But we cannot take this further."

Merlin tensed in his arms as if wanting to argue, but he didn't. Arthur stroked his thumb along Merlin's side in a soothing gesture. When Merlin did speak, it was slowly and with an oddly calm voice. "When I was thirteen and in the sanctity of the confessional, I told our priest that I felt desire for men."

Arthur's hand stilled. A worm of fear crawled in his stomach.

"He told me I was possessed, he told me he would pray for guidance to free me from the creature. For a week, I was terrified. I wondered what I could have done to be vulnerable to such an attack. I wondered if I was truly as weak and worthless as my brothers had always claimed, deserving of their hatred and my father's coldness. Why else would such a creature have chosen me?"

Arthur breathed into Merlin's hair, feeling a murderous anger for the sake of the young boy.

"The following week, when I returned to confession, eager to hear the priest explain how he would save me, he made me follow him to his chambers. There, he made me undress, and he forced me to kneel. He tried to put his cock into my mouth."

Arthur growled. "I'll kill him," he vowed.

Merlin huffed with a bitter laugh. "You're too late, Lion. The man is already dead, gone in an epidemic of fever that struck my father's castle while I was on the road with the army.

"Merlin…"

"Fear not. I was no fool, not even at thirteen. I let the priest taste my dagger, and I told him what he could do with his cock and his creature. He threatened to tell my father I lusted after men. I threatened to carve off his staff and eggs in his sleep. You could say it was a stalemate."

Arthur could not stop a smile at the thought of young Merlin acting so boldly. "I wished I'd seen that. You must have scared the piss out of the man. But I hope you are content to leave my staff and eggs where they are."

Merlin's hand strayed onto Arthur's thigh. "As long as they serve me well."

Arthur chuckled, but a tingle went down his spine. After witnessing Merlin's attack on the outlaws, he had no doubt that the archer could be deadly.

Merlin sighed. "I believe there is a God, but what _He_ thinks of my desires, or those of any man, no one can tell. I'm done listening to priests on the matter."

"Merlin-"

Merlin pulled away, his words angry and passionate. "No! I told you, Arthur. I do not break faith with those who do not broke faith with me. _God _broke faith with me. He took my mother, left me in a house of enemies. He ignored my prayers for help, night after night when I was only a boy. And his own priest wanted to sate his own lust, not save my soul. I care not for God's law! Or man's either. There should have been laws of decency, laws of conduct, laws of family that protected me when I was young, but there were none. No law saved your sister from a husband who is a monster, nor helps her now. So what allegiance should I have to man's law's? Should I believe it more of a crime for us to love each other than the harm my brothers did to me without any fear of retribution from my father? Never!"

Arthur felt his pulse thud for what Merlin had endured, but he knew it changed nothing. "You mayn't believe that you and I lying together is wrong, Merlin. But that doesn't change the fact that it is despicable in the eyes of everyone else."

Merlin's jaw only set more stubbornly. "Then we must not be caught."

"Do you think it would not be obvious? If we were lovers in a lord's castle or in a company of knights?"

Merlin got a calculating gleam in his eyes. "Not if well done. One or both of us could wed-"

Arthur groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Bloody Hell, you thought this through."

"So what? The right kind of wife, one only interested in hearth and babes, maybe a little dim of mind, separate chambers. My father has a small holding, four hundred acres, in Avalon. I've been trying to talk to him into letting me take it over. He says I have not the experience, nor will he send me without a wife, but perhaps in time he will allow it. In a place like that-"

Arthur pulled Merlin tight, a stab of foreboding going through his heart. "Please, Merlin. You chill me to the marrow with fear for you when you talk like this. You will bring yourself to ruin."

Merlin stilled and snuggled deeper into Arthur's arms.

"We have another six, seven day's' ride ahead. Let me have you, hold you, for this long, Merlin, and let us be content with our fate. I won't waste time fighting about what mayn't be. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Merlin answered. He sighed bitterly, but raised his lips to meet Arthur's.

The desperate need with which Merlin pushed against Arthur's chest, as if they might never have this again, meant he acknowledged every word Arthur had said, even if Merlin himself would not admit it.

They lay their bedrolls next to each other that night and made love again, stroking each other to sweet release, indulging in endless kisses. It would have to be enough, Arthur told himself. Enough to last a lifetime.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for the long wait - but finally here's the new Chapter. Hope you like it!?**

For the next week their journey was a sweet one. Merlin had lost the last of his reservation, and was boyishly playful. He'd challenge Arthur to race to the top of a hill or a certain tree with a quirk of his eyebrow, before taking off on Aithusa. Arthur, unable to ignore any challenge, would race after him on Dragoon, the poor packhorse plodding along behind them anxiously.

Merlin and Aithusa usually won, but only because Merlin was a lighter load for his horse, and had a head start. Or so Arthur insisted.

Arthur sometimes caught Merlin looking at him in a melancholy way, but Merlin would immediately deny it, and he said nothing more about their conversation by the fire. As for Arthur, he refused to think about the future. For all he knew, he wouldn't survive his confrontation with Lord Essetir. So Arthur treasured each moment of their days as if it might be his last.

One evening Arthur offered Merlin a lesson in swordplay. Merlin's blade was fast at blocking, and he saw openings well, but he didn't have Arthur's strength. He was driven back several times under Arthur's attack. On their third time, when Arthur was about to force him out of the invisible ring they'd established, Merlin's face suddenly turned mischievous. He held up a hand for a pause, faking breathlessness. When Arthur lowered his sword, Merlin gave him a swift swat on the back with the flat of his blade. Before Arthur could reciprocate, Merlin dropped his sword and ran off into the woods, laughing.

"You sneaking coward! You're not supposed to leave the circle!" Arthur shouted. "Have you no respect whatsoever for codes of conduct?"

Merlin ignored him.

Well, there was no way Arthur could allow an opponent to get the last hit, especially not one so demeaning. Arthur took off after Merlin, following his less than subtle trail until it abruptly ended. Arthur circled around looking for traces of disturbance, his sword still in his hand. Something bonked him on the head.

"Hullo!"

Arthur looked up to see Merlin in a tree. He was squatting on a branch holding a handful of acorns, the second of which he lobbed at Arthur's head.

Arthur swatted it away and waved his sword with a knowing smirk. "Sooner or later you'll have to come down, Raven."

"Nah," Merlin said loftily. "I plan to make my home in this tree. I shall build a shelter from its twigs and branches, and I'll dine on acorns and morning dew."

Arthur scratched his chin. "Sounds boring to me."

"Well, I may come down once in a fortnight or so. After all, you can't stand there forever. That's even more boring than being in this tree."

"Come down and take your defeat like a man and I won't have to."

Merlin gave a tired sigh in response. He stretched out on his back on the branch, put his arms under his head, and propped his legs on the trunk of the tree, looking for all the world as if he were about to take a nap. It looked too precarious by far for Arthur's taste.

"I'm not climbing that damned tree to get you!" Arthur insisted.

Merlin snorted. "Hah… As if you could."

Arthur dropped his sword and climbed that damned tree. When Arthur finally caught hold of Merlin's ankle, he pulled him close and swatted him on the back with his hand. "There! That's for running like a coward. I won."

"You won. You are by far the greater swordsman, and I'll tell anyone you like." Merlin's tone was solemn, but it held a trace of amusement.

Arthur was about to protest, but then they were kissing and… well, he had won, after all.

ooOoo

A few nights later, Merlin returned the favor. In the clearing where they camped, he found a broad tree, and pinned a round cloth up on it as a target. While the dinner cooked, he offered Arthur his bow.

"How good are you, Lion?"

"Very good," Arthur said.

Arthur stood from where he'd been sitting by the fire and took the bow. Without another word he strode over to line himself up with the tree. He tested Merlin's bow for balance and tautness, then raised it to his shoulder. He pulled the string back as if it were weightless and let it loose. The arrow landed with a clean _thwunk_ at the center of the cloth.

Arthur smirked and handed the bow back to Merlin. "Beat that, if you can."

Merlin would. He'd not let Arthur beat him at his own weapon if he could help it. He remembered a flashy trick that had impressed the hell out of him the first time he'd seen it done. He looked around the clearing, then pointed at a sapling no more than an inch in diameter.

"There."

Merlin made sure his quiver had exactly five arrows and placed it on his back, then took up the bow. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and then pulled the first arrow. He shot all five arrows rapid-fire in a straight vertical line up the small sapling.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

With the force of each arrow, the sapling cracked a bit more at the base, until, as the last arrow struck it, it fell over. Merlin smiled and looked at Arthur, who was frowning, but his eyes - his eyes were _impressed._

Arthur cuffed Merlin on the side of his head for showing him up. Merlin dropped the bow and shoved him back. Arthur wrestled Merlin to the ground, laughing. Merlin tried to squirm away, but Arthur was not slow like Merlin's brothers, not for all his bulk. He pulled Merlin back in by his waist and lay on top of him, pinning his arms at his side.

"What will you do now, Raven?" Arthur taunted.

There was more than one way to win a match, and with Arthur's solid bulk on top of him, Merlin was more than happy to explore his options. Merlin relaxed and let his eyes grow heavy-lidded with desire. When the look drew Arthur's head down, unconsciously it seemed, Merlin rose up and gave a long lick along Arthur's jaw.

"Damn… Good strategy," Arthur murmured. And kissed Merlin.

So far they had touched each other, rutted together, and drunk their fill of heady kisses. And to Merlin, who had never had that privilege of a lover, it was all new. Merlin found the feel of Arthur against him, the heady power of Arthur's hard cock in his hand more satisfying and arousing than he'd even imagined in his most secret thoughts. But Merlin knew there could be more. He'd heard stories from men around the campfires and from his brothers and his father's men, boasts about what they'd done with whores or girls who had been eager and willing along the way.

It was as if Arthur were a magical potion that, the more you drank of, the thirstier you became. Merlin wanted _all of Arthur_, and the threat of only having him for a limited time made Merlin even more determined to take what he could get.

So that night, when the setting of the sun gave them a cloak of privacy and they retired to their bedrolls, Merlin pushed away Arthur's hands,

"I want to learn you," Merlin said. "Memorize you in every way."

Arthur said nothing as Merlin pushed his tunic up to his shoulders and nuzzled the hair on his chest. Merlin felt the softness of it and the crinkly texture on his cheek. He pulled on it with lips and teeth, and the sharp gasp that escaped Arthur and the unconscious raising of his hips were all the encouragement Merlin needed.

Merlin tasted the space over Arthur's beating heart and kissed his sternum. He licked Arthur's muscled sides, feeling their rigid strength, and sucked lightly at his navel. Arthur groaned, his hips arching up again, his hands confused and helpless on Merlin's shoulders.

"_Merlin_," he breathed, to no defined purpose.

There was a fuzzy golden trail from Arthur's navel to his manhood. Merlin had seen it before, that day in the river, and glimpses of it when Arthur had changed in camp. It had always caused a low throb of arousal in Merlin, and now he explored the trail with his nose and tongue, worshipped it as Arthur's insistent erection pulsed under Merlin's chin. Arthur squirmed, his hips unable to stop their begging.

Then finally Merlin turned his attention to the best part of all. Merlin wanted to please Arthur, he wanted to experience Arthur's beautiful cock in every way he possibly could, while he could. Merlin would hold these memories forever.

Merlin took the thick base in his fingers, holding it steady, while he cautiously licked the shiny head that protruded from the foreskin.

"Gods, Merlin!"

In Arthur's voice was surprise and a warning, but also an anguish of the very best kind. His body had its own ideas. Arthur's cock pulsed and strained in Merlin's hand, asking for more, and his hips rose up with perfect aim at Merlin's lips.

Merlin smiled and took the whole head into his mouth and suckled lightly, rubbing the underside with his tongue. The response was a cry of pleasure and a further straining of the hard member in his hand. _More, more._

Merlin pulled off. "Does that feel good?" he asked Arthur, though he was certain he knew the answer.

Arthur let loose a string of curses, and put his hand gently on Merlin's head and urged him back down for good measure. "More."

Merlin was happy to oblige. The feel of the hot weight on his tongue was immensely satisfying. He could imagine the sensations Arthur must be feeling as if they were happening to his own cock. He ground into Arthur's leg for relief.

Arthur was too far gone for any more teasing, painfully hard in Merlin's mouth and thrusting with every bob of his head. The two found a rhythm that drove them both to the edge.

Merlin came first, the sounds Arthur was making and the hardness of the cock in his mouth pushing him over. He ground against Arthur's leg and a moment later, felt Arthur's cock jerk and seed fill his mouth. Merlin hadn't prepared to swallow it, but Arthur was too lost in pleasure to release his head, and so he took it, pulse by pulse, as the last of his own orgasm waved over him. The baseness of the act only made Merlin come harder.

Somehow they ended up side by side again, Merlin on his back breathing hard.

"You are…," Arthur began, his voice still a bit wobbly. Merlin waited. "That was…," Arthur tried again.

Merlin smiled up at the stars. "I won that round?" he suggested.

"By my sword, you can win _them all_."


	13. Chapter 13

"I have a plan to free your sister, the Lady Morgana," Merlin said as they rode through the forest a few days later.

They were approaching the last town before the mountains between them and Essetir's remote castle on the wild coastline of Albion. As they grew closer Cenred's lands, Merlin could see Arthur's concern for Morgana growing by the stony set of Arthur's appearance as they rode. Arthur was mentally preparing himself for battle; perhaps even preparing himself for death.

Yet, Arthur never completely turned from him. Their bedrolls were now routinely placed side-by-side. Arthur made love each night as tenderly and fiercely as any lover could, taking his own turn exploring Merlin's body. It was an unprecedented bliss. The overpowering emotion that Merlin had for Arthur settled deeper and deeper into his bones every night.

He could not give up Arthur. He _would _not. He'd never been surer of anything in his life. But Merlin knew it was useless to argue with Arthur, so he spoke no more about the future. His thoughts for now had to be centered on a more urgent goal - finding a way for Arthur to survive the rescue of Morgana.

"What is your plan, then, Raven?" Arthur asked in a neutral tone. "Wait, don't speak now. I'll need ale for this. We'll dine at the tavern up ahead, and you can tell me when I'm ready." He said it in a teasing manner, but Merlin could see the worry in him all the same.

ooOoo

Arthur dismounted in the village square. "I want to ask around about Lord Essetir. You said his castle lies on the other side of the mountain range."

"Yes."

"Then the people here would know about him. We'll dine at the tavern later."

That suited Merlin. While Arthur was off replenishing their supplies and questioning the locals, he bought what he needed. He packed the purchases out of sight in the saddlebags where Arthur would not see them. It took the last of his coin, but it would be worth it.

When they met up again, Arthur looked thunderous. "What did you learn?" Merlin asked.

"That Lord Essetir is a vicious bastard, and that everyone in his household fears him. They say Lady Morgana sits at his side meekly, so well beaten she never speaks a word, even when he fondles wenches in front of her."

"Someone told you that?" Merlin said in disbelief. People loved to gossip, but normally they were less openly critical of men who held Cenred's level of power.

"That was the sense of it. I would give my eyes and teeth to castrate Cenred and cast his innards to the dogs." Arthur glowered.

"Very poetic. At least you know Morgana is alive," Merlin pointed out.

Arthur looked at him as if that hadn't even occurred to him. He sighed. "True enough. Come, Merlin," he growled. "I need a pint."

The tavern was like many others they'd seen on the road; a dim building that stunk of unwashed bodies and grilling meat. The half-timbered walls surrounded one large room filled with sturdy wooden tables and chairs. As usual, their entrance provoked plenty of stares. The least welcome came from a group of seven hardened-looking men sharing a table at the back. Something about the men made the hair on the back of Merlin's neck stand on end, especially when one of them, a smarmy brute with cruel eyes, looked Merlin up and down with mocking lechery.

_They're nothing to us. Ignore them._ Nevertheless, Merlin was glad he was with Arthur and not by himself. Arthur seemed to disregard the group after one glance, but he chose a small table close to the wall and took the chair that faced the men.

"Two plates, two pints," Arthur told the maid.

The ale and food came quickly. One bite, and Merlin's appetite returned with vigor. Arthur downed half his pint and gave Merlin an inscrutable look. "Well? Out with it. What is this plan you spoke of?"

Merlin took a swig of ale and leaned forward. "As you have said, Lord Essetir know your face. If you challenge him in the open, it _will_ go badly. Our best chance is to get Lady Morgana out by subterfuge. I will go the the castle and seek work as a servant-"

"Absolutely _not!_" Arthur yelled.

By the saints, Merlin could swear the man was not called the Lion for his valour but for his cantankerous roar. "You might hear me out before saying no," Merlin said with some annoyance.

Arthur frowned.

"I'll seek work in the castle," Merlin continued in a quiet voice. "In a week's time, I'll learn in what rooms Lady Morgana is kept and what her schedule is; when she walks in the garden or attends confession. That way, we might find the best time and place to get her and her children out unobserved."

"I do not want you entering that castle."

"This is our best chance of success! You must consider Morgana. Our goal is to free her _and_ keep your head on your neck, and damn your pride, Sir Arthur Pendragon!"

Arthur focused on his food for a few long moments, considering the proposition. Merlin glanced around and noticed the smarmy brute was staring at him again. The man licked his lips in an unmistakable lewd way. Merlin felt a flush of anger. He was a knight and that was a blatant insult. But the man had a lot of friends, and Merlin's conversation with Arthur was too important to get distracted. Merlin turned back to his plate and took his irritation out on a piece of innocent sausage instead, mauling it with his knife and chewing aggressively.

Arthur's voice, when he spoke, was soft. "You shouldn't risk your neck for my sister's."

"It's a small risk," Merlin scoffed. "No one in the castle knows me, and traveling labourers are as common as fleas. I will only be observing, after all."

Arthur said nothing, but his face was troubled, and he clutched his pint like it might try to escape. Merlin leaned closer over the table and clasped his wrist. "I beg you, don't make me watch you play the hero and die. Let me help you in this."

"I don't like it."

"Dammit Arthur, I am a knight," Merlin reminded him, a hint of ice in his voice. "A trained warrior." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Just because I let you hold me as a woman, don't mistake me for such."

Arthur looked at him wryly. "Oh, I don't."

"Then trust me to _be_ a warrior. It only makes sense to assess the situation. I can do this."

Arthur finally nodded, but didn't looked pleased. "If we can get Morgana and the children without you getting into danger, then we will. But if we cannot, Merlin, I _will_ challenge Cenred."

"I know," Merlin said quietly.

"_If_ we do this-"

Arthur's words died in his mouth as he looked up, and a shadow fell across the table. Merlin had been so caught up in the argument that he'd forgotten about the men in the back. Now they surrounded Arthur and Merlin's table - all seven of them, hands on their sword-hilts. Merlin felt the dark stirrings of dread pool in his stomach.

The leader - Smarmy Brute - wore a dangerous smirk. He gave Arthur a mock bow. "Excuse me, sir knight, but we mean to borrow your companion for a time. A longish time, I think." A few other men chuckled. Merlin's hand found his dagger even as he saw Arthur's hand was already on his sword.

"Explain your meaning," Arthur said, his voice thick with warning."

"I mean what I say. This pretty by comes with us." The man reached out to cup Merlin's chin, but his eyes held more loathing than desire.

Before Merlin could move, Arthur stood and grabbed the man's forearm. "Leave, or you will lose this hand and anything it might take pleasure in grasping."

In a heartbeat, Arthur had four blades held up against him. He still grasped Smarmy Brute's arm with one hand and had drawn his own blade with the other, but the table, and the proximity of the men surrounding them, stopped him from raising it.

Merlin rose to his feet and drew his dagger with a sense of icy resolve. He lifted his chin defiantly and allowed his rage to burn in his eyes. "The stench of you is ruining my meal. Walk away, or this 'boy' will cut your insulting tongue from your mouth."

Smarmy Brute gave Merlin a brittle smile. "Careful, _wench_." He looked at Arthur with contempt. "We know about you two. This one here" - he motioned at Merlin - "he's your _woman_. Now he'll be ours, or we'll drag you both to the town square and see what the good folk of this town will do with you. They're not merciful to your kind round here."

Merlin felt the first real wave of fear at those words. _They know. How could they know?_ Arthur… Arthur's face flushed a shamed red, more humiliation than anger. Merlin couldn't help feeling betrayed by that, by Arthur's shame. This was going so horribly wrong.

"You mistake us for someone else. Now move along," Arthur commanded, but though his voice was firm, his blush gave them away.

"There's no mistake," the leader sneered. "Two knights traveling alone. One dark-haired and sweet as a maid - that's what we heard. And we'll have our pound of flesh as well as the-"

Merlin lost it. He put both hands against the heavy table and pushed hard. It went crashing over in Arthur's direction. But the movement scattered the men, and Arthur leapt back out of the way, bringing up his sword and taking a battle stance.

Merlin's bow sat secured on his saddle outside. All he had with him was was his dagger, but he would fight to the death with it. The question of _how_ and _why_ became irrelevant as he heard the first clash of Arthur's steel. All he knew or cared was that these men were a threat to him and more important - _a threat to Arthur_. He wanted them dead.

The locals scattered as the brawl turned lethal. Merlin avoided the swipe of a sword at his leg, responding with a violent slash down his attacker's arm, producing a howl and a bright arc of blood. Hemmed in front and back, Merlin leapt onto a nearby table where he could have a quick look about for Arthur.

Arthur had his back to the wall and was fighting off two attackers with great enthusiasm while another lay already dead at his feet. _Thank god_. One of the brutes ran toward Merlin with a determined expression, sword in hand. Merlin jumped over the man's blade swipe and then planted a foot in his face as hard as he could. He felt the bone of the man's nose give way, and the villain staggered backward with a gurgled cry. Another attacker replaced the first and aimed to cut off Merlin's hand, but Merlin jerked back just in time - just in time to feel someone behind him grab his ankles and yank them off the table. The wood rose to meet Merlin's face as he crashed down, and he raised his arms to protect himself. A club struck his hand, and he dropped the dagger. A moment later he was pulled up and tossed over Smarmy Brute's shoulder like a trophy.

Merlin raised his head from his captor's back, trying to get his lungs to draw air. His eyes met Arthur's across the room. Arthur was bloody but still standing amid the rubble of broken tables, chairs and limbs. One of the swordsmen was crawling away on his elbows, the stump of his hand leaving a red stream in his wake. Another lay flat against the wall. He cracked his eyes open, saw Merlin watching and closed them again, playing dead. Merlin saw all this in an instant, as well as the look of calm hatred on Arthur's face as he started stalking after Merlin and his captor.

Arthur or not, Merlin would be damned if he would let himself be carried off like some mewling bride, or rescued like a princess from a dragon. He grabbed Smarmy Brute's side for leverage and bit into the unprotected flesh on the back of his arm, digging his teeth in as hard as he could. Smarmy Brute cursed and dropped him. In a flash, Merlin grabbed his dagger from the floor and, from his knees, plunged it straight up under Smarmy Brute's tunic and mail. The blade met soft flesh and the man screamed. He staggered away, going deathly white, and collapsed, holding his hands over his groin. It was unlikely he would be fathering any children now. Merlin was not the least bit sorry.

"Move," Arthur said, grabbing Merlin's arm and pulling him up. "We need to get out of town."

Merlin realized the maid and several older, burly men who had taken refuge behind the bar were watching them. Their faces were fearful and hard-set. Arthur was right. Although their only crime was defending themselves from attack, they couldn't risk being questioned by the town authorities. The pair left the tavern, grabbed their horses, and rode as fast as they could out of town.

ooOoo

When they were a safe distance from the town, they stopped at a stream to wash up. Merlin had dried blood on his hands and sleeves, and he did the best he could to clean it off in the cold water.

Arthur hadn't said a word since they left the tavern, and Merlin's sense of something being very wrong grew until he couldn't keep quiet any longer. "They couldn't have known," he said.

Arthur was wiping down his sword. He carefully put it back in his sheath before he spoke. "Someone saw us."

"It means nothing. We'll not come back this way again." Merlin argued.

"We've take too many risks." Arthur still hadn't looked at Merlin, but his voice was heavy.

_No, don't_, Merlin thought.

"It ends here." Arthur mounted Dragoon.

Merlin was still squatting at the stream. He let his head fall and shook it in denial. This… this was everything he'd feared. "Arthur…"

"The price is too high if it means your life, Merlin. Or my honour."

"It's not too high for me!" Merlin shouted.

Arthur set his jaw stubbornly. "You said we'd reach Essetir's castle soon, so it was over anyway. The world is what it is, Merlin. Does no good for either of us to fight it."

Arthur turned Dragoon and began to ride away. Merlin followed with an ache forming in his chest.


	14. Chapter 14

It took Arthur and Merlin two and a half days to cross the mountains on horseback. Merlin remembered where to find the best path and where to avoid straying off it onto misleading shepherd's trails. The hills were beautiful, but neither man was in much of a mind to enjoy them.

For two nights their bedrolls lay on opposite sides of the fire, which made Merlin so frustrated he wanted to rip apart the bare earth with his hands. They had so little time left as it was. But Arthur seemed to have decided he was acting for Merlin's own good, and Merlin knew he needed some time to realize he was, well, being a fool.

They descended to the foothills on the third day and made an early camp, still far enough away from Essetir's castle to feel safe.

"If I leave at sunrise," said Merlin, "I'll arrive at the castle before midday."

"I am still not sure about you going into the castle bailey alone."

"But we agreed," Merlin said, calm. "My face is not known there. I'll get the lay of things and be back in one week. At best, I will learn something that gives you a better option. At worst, you've lost some time."

Arthur wiped his face with his hand. "But if you're caught as a spy…"

"I won't."

"You won't be able to take your quiver. You'll be vulnerable."

Merlin raised his tunic to show off his sheathed dagger. He removed it and looked around the clearing. In a heartbeat he raised the dagger overhand and threw it. It buried itself with a loud _shht_ in the center of the trunk of a fat tree. "Not that vulnerable," he said as he went to retrieve it.

Arthur chuckled for the first time in days. "Impressive, Raven. What other tricks do you have up your sleeve? Remind me to stay on your good side."

Merlin grinned with delighted pride. He pulled his knife free, and when he returned, stepped far closer to Arthur than was proper. The heat that always existed between them stirred. This time Arthur did not pull away.

"I survived my brothers for years. I'm no fool, Arthur. I beg you to have some faith in me. You are not alone in this."

Arthur felt his will slipping. He knew, as a military commander, he would approve the plan in a heartbeat. And he did trust Merlin's strength and agility, his cleverness. He did. But his heart did not want to let Merlin anywhere near Lord Cenred of Essetir or his forces. It was bad enough that Essetir had Morgana.

"You must make no move without me," Arthur ordered. "You will return in one week - sooner if you can. And you will not take risks. No sneaking into Morgana's quarters, no going into private areas, no risky questions that would give you away. Swear to me, Merlin."

Merlin hesitated. "I swear to you that my dearest wish is for us to be together safe again, and that I will act in no way to endanger that."

Merlin moved even closer to Arthur as he spoke, his eyes full of a fierce affection. A wave of desire dried up Arthur's demands along with his ability to form any words at all. It seemed the more he had of Merlin, the more he wanted him. They'd seen no one for the past two days, had no one's eyes upon them, accusing or otherwise. And Arthur knew this could be their last night alone. He wanted one more taste. Dear heaven, just one more.

"Have no fear," Merlin said softly. He ran long fingers along Arthur's jaw. "I will slip in and out like a shadow."

"You put much faith in your… charms," Arthur said mildly, even though he was already stiffening.

Merlin smiled slyly. "I do. I bought something for us in town." He went to Aithusa and pulled a wrapped object from the saddlebags. He showed it to Arthur. It was a small stoppered jar.

"Poison?" Arthur asked warily.

Merlin laughed. "Bloody hell… no, considering where this is going." He uncorked the jar and dabbed some on his fingers. It was golden in colour. He ran it over Arthur's lips.

Arthur tasted it. "Oil?"

"Linseed oil."

"For cooking?"

Merlin corked the jar and wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, murmuring in his ear. "For easing your way into my tight hole."

Arthur's heart seemed to leave his chest and get stuck in his throat. He clasped Merlin's sides and burrowed his face into Merlin's neck. Arthur groaned as lust shook him, and his cock became as solid as is iron sword. "Is that - you cannot want that."

"I want it," Merlin said fiercely. "This may be our last chance, Arthur. I want to try everything."

"You're a saucy wanton," Arthur muttered in a tone that said it was a quality he greatly admired.

Arthur pressed against Merlin and felt him harden as they strove to get closer, as if they could merge together, mouths kissing hot and sweet. Arthur was so hard his cock ached like a sore tooth. He had certainly thought about being inside Merlin, not only at the river but every time since - about Merlin's long legs wrapped around him, his lovely arse… But Arthur would never have asked such a thing of another man and particularly not of a knight. He had too much respect for Merlin to ask it.

"Are you sure?" Arthur pulled away from Merlin's kiss. "If it is our last chance, I want you to enjoy it. I want to give you pleasure."

"I want it, Arthur, I swear. I want to know what it's like. Don't deny me."

Arthur held himself in check with great determination as he kissed Merlin, divested him of every stitch of clothing, and settled him onto the bedroll. The act Merlin offered seemed to awaken even more tenderness and protectiveness in Arthur than usual. He wanted to kiss and soothe and touch Merlin everywhere, preparing him for what he hoped was their mutual bliss.

Only with Merlin did Arthur want to take his time like this. Only with him did every touch and every moment spent Arthur drinking his fill with his mouth and eyes spur his arousal higher. When he'd been with women, he'd always been eager to get it all over with, sensing he might lose interest.

He could never lose interest in Merlin. Merlin's hard, lean body, soft skin, dusky nipples, and jutting cock all worked on Arthur like a dangerous love potion. Merlin let him do as he would, not hurrying him, though his cock was rigid and glistening with arousal and his eyes burned with far-gone desire. Arthur ran his hand over Merlin's chest and stomach and hips again and again. His own cock throbbed each time Merlin made an involuntary little gasp. But eventually Merlin dug in his heels and lifted his hips.

"Use the oil on me," Merlin said, his voice rough.

Arthur, shaking, obliged. He poured some of the oil into the center of his hand and stroked it over Merlin's stiff cock. Merlin arched upwards in pleasure and hissed. "Not there! I'll spend in an instant." Merlin spread his thighs and moved over a little so he could pull his knees towards his chest, opening himself up.

It was the most shameless, vulnerable, and erotic thing Arthur had ever seen. He blushed, even as his eyes fell to the pale perfection, and to the tight pink bud Merlin revealed so wantonly. Arthur's fingers shook as he smoothed the oil over that tender flesh, making it slick.

Merlin moaned. "Press in."

Arthur timidly pressed one oily finger against the hole, then, when it did not give, more firmly. The tip of his finger sank in, and Merlin made an incoherent sound.

"_More_."

Arthur thrust the finger deep, and Merlin cried out in shock and pleasure. And, _Heaven help_, the way Merlin's tight hole felt around his finger - grasping and hot and slick with oil. Arthur almost spent against Merlin's thigh like a callow youth. He muttered Merlin's name and thrust his finger in and out, mesmerized by the sight of it disappearing into Merlin's body. Gradually the tight ring slackened a little against him.

Merlin pulled at his arms, trying to get Arthur to lie atop him. "Now, Arthur. I beg you."

Arthur resisted only long enough to coat his cock with the oil. Then he dropped the jar and covered Merlin with his body, using his hand to guide himself to the entrance. He paused there, his face inches from Merlin's, lost in those blue eyes. For a moment they stared at each other, their locked gaze so intense it did not bear breaking, not even for the act they both desperately wanted. Then Merlin thrust up his hips. "Take me," he demanded.

Arthur pushed in, feeling the resistance. His cock was much larger than his finger and Merlin was so tight. He stopped when Merlin's face screwed up in pain. But slowly, inch by inch, retreat and pursue, he sank deeper. Finally he was buried to the hilt and there was only the grasping intimacy and ecstasy of being inside Merlin's body.

Need took over, causing Arthur to thrust again and again, now fast to spur them upward, now slow to keep it from ending too quickly. He loved the feel of Merlin underneath him, flesh pressed to flesh, of being so intimately united with his body. They kissed, they stared into each others eyes. Merlin's hands roamed over Arthur's back. And all the while, Merlin's tight hole stroked and suckled Arthur's cock, giving him blinding pleasure. Emotions chased across Merlin's face, making it clear he was just as affected.

When Arthur could hold back no longer, he rose up onto his heels and pulled Merlin into his lap. Poised thus, Arthur could thrust deeply and stroke Merlin at the same time. It only lasted a matter of seconds, but the moment burned permanently into Arthur's brain - the sight of Merlin's slender body, that beautiful face, those eyes so loving and passionate gazing into his. Merlin's cock, so decadent and stiff in Arthur's hand as he stroked it, Merlin's pale, muscular thighs lying over his, and the sight and sensation of his own cock plunging into that beautiful body.

In that moment, Arthur knew that this was it for him - the pinnacle of sexual and romantic bliss. Nothing would ever match it - nothing could come close to being as lovely, erotic, and arousing as Merlin, just like this, letting Arthur take him. _This_ was the moment he would take to his grave.

_I love you_, Arthur thought as his peak ripped through him like a tempest. And even as he recognized the significance of the moment, he was mourning the fact that he was never to experience it again.


	15. Chapter 15

Merlin awoke before dawn. He gently disengaged himself from Arthur, assuring himself first that Arthur was asleep. When he rose, Merlin paused for a moment to stare down at his lover.

By the saints, Sir Arthur Pendragon was a handsome man. The sight moved Merlin, the way he felt moved by a perfect sunset or a view of green rolling plains from a hilltop. He knew it might be the last time he ever saw Arthur, so Merlin allowed his gaze to linger. But soon the ache it provoked in his chest was too much, too large a threat to his will, and he made himself move.

Merlin left his bedroll with Arthur and quietly led Aithusa out of the camp. If Arthur woke up, he would only have more doubts about letting Merlin go to the castle, and leaving him behind would just be that much more difficult.

Merlin rode all morning, his nerves prickling like live wires when he thought of what he was about to do. When the walls of the castle were close, Merlin turned Aithusa into the woods. He found a small stream and unpacked his saddlebags. He drew out his purchases; a rolled length of bandaging, a white wimple, a blue linen gown, and a pair of women's simple black shoes.

He had never done this before, and it took him some time. Merlin shaved his chin very carefully and soothed it with the linseed oil. He would have to do that often - he could not forget. He bound his cock and bollocks between his legs and then dressed, bunching the excess bandaged in his bodice and shaping them as best as he could. He put on the wimple, which hid his hair and draped over his gown. It helped mask the unnatural shape of his bosom. When he was done, Merlin stood and looked at himself, head to toe, in the slow-moving water of the stream.

Fear spread its icy finger through his chest. Bloody hell, this was an insane idea! How could anyone look at him and not see Merlin Balinor, a man? How had he ever thought of such a disastrous plan?

His panic held him tightly for several seconds, and he forced himself to look again, this time with the eye of a stranger. A very odd creature stared back at him, half woman, half man. Merlin blinked. Mostly a woman?

_I can do this. I can_.

Merlin had thought of it some days back, before he'd ever broached with Arthur the subject of spying in the castle. But he knew if he told Arthur everything he planned, there was no way Arthur would allow it. Bloody hell, he'd barely gotten Arthur to agree to let him go to the castle at all, just to get the lay of things.

But as Merlin had pondered their situation, he'd come to one inescapable conclusion - their best chance of freeing Morgana was Lord Cenred Essetir's death.

Yes, there was a chance they might be able to spirit Morgana away, that there might be a time and a place within her daily routine that would allow it, or that her rooms would be but lightly guarded, or even that Merlin could get her a message and she could extract herself from her warders and meet them outside the castle walls.

But there was also a chance that it might not be so. If Lord Essetir was the beast he was reputed to be, it was unlikely Morgana would have that kind of liberty. And even if they managed to escape with her and the children, her absence would quickly raise the alarm, and they'd be pursued by Lord Essetir's army. Merlin was not completely dismissing that scenario. But he was prepared to go further - should the opportunity present itself. And it was much more likely to present itself in this guise, as was the chance of getting close to Morgana.

Merlin looked down at himself critically. His hands were too large. He would have to hide them as much as possible. And by the Saints, he had not thought of the archer's calluses on his right hand! If anyone noticed those, he was done for. And his voice… He practiced a falsetto, but it sounded laughable to his ears. He would have to speak as little as possible. The wimple hid his throat, which was all too male, and accentuated his face, which was the disguise's best hope. Or so Merlin thought.

When he'd first thought of the plan, he'd been swept up by its cleverness, by the irony of it. His brothers had told him so oft, and so disdainfully, that he was pretty, womanly, soft. That he might use this hated aspect of himself to his advantage was too delicious to resist. But now, his reflection seemed to only emphasize what was male about him, which was much. He'd spent his whole life acting as masculine and cold as possible. So it was not a woman's face that looked back at him.

It was dangerous.

"Courage," Merlin whispered over his pounding heart. "I can do this. I _shall_."

If caught out, a man dressing as a woman, Merlin would likely be killed on the spot, if not for a spy, then for an abomination. Arthur would be frothing at the mouth if he knew Merlin was attempting this. He would murder Merlin if he found out.

Nevertheless, the thought of Arthur calmed him. _Arthur_. Merlin would save Arthur. He would be clever and invisible and bold.

Resolved, he untied Aithusa's reins and gave the horse a nudge and a pat. "Back to Arthur and Dragoon with you. Go on." Aithusa looked at Merlin indignantly for a moment and then took off at a gallop back to camp.

Merlin walked on foot toward the castle.

ooOoo

"Take this and hurry up with ya!" The cook, Hilda, thrust a platter bearing an enormous roast goose that was set around with crab apples. Merlin took it, placing both hands on the bottom of the platter to keep them out of view. He carried it up the stairs toward the dining hall.

It had not been difficult to get work at the castle. There seemed to be a steady exodus of servants from Lord Essetir's care and keeping, and Merlin had already witnessed to understand why. Twice in the five days Merlin had been here, he'd witnessed Lord Essetir strike a servant table. Once because the servant put a pitcher down badly, interrupting Lord Essetir's conversation with a bang and sloshing the contents. The other time it seemed the blow had come for no reason at all, except that the servant had gotten too close to the lord at table and Essetir had smacked him down for it.

Lady Morgana sat next to her husband at every evening meal. She was pretty but wan and egregiously thin. She kept her eyes downcast and her face studiously blank. Merlin never saw her during the day. Her rooms, along with the children's - a girl four years old and another girl aged six - were in the southwest tower, its entrance well-guarded at all times. Merlin might have been able to slip Morgana a message in the dining hall, but it would endanger them both, and to what end?

Merlin placed the platter on the lord's table. He dared a glance at Lady Morgana, and she looked up just then and met his eyes. It was only a brief moment, but she did smile ever so slightly before casting her eyes back downward.

As Merlin backed away from the table, he glanced at Lord Essetir. Cenred was staring at him with a heavy, hooded look that Merlin recognized all too well. His heart slammed against his ribs in a rush of excitement and fear. He dropped his eyes and backed away completely.

In the five days Merlin had been in the castle, he'd been surprised that his identity had never once been questioned. Everyone accepted him at face value. There had been some glances at his hands, times when he'd had to take a pitcher or scrub the floor, unable to shield them. But they were only glances of curiosity, people probably thinking his hands were unfortunately unbecoming for a woman. Merlin had managed to speak little, and his voice was not questioned either. For that matter, the cook herself sounded like a grizzled old man, perhaps, from so many hours spent bending over a smoky fire.

Indeed, the most dangerous aspect of Merlin's role thus far had been avoiding the interest he had received from various male admirers. Apparently he was attractive as a woman after all. Merlin had said he was married, pulled strongly away from grasping hands, and stayed in the kitchen as much as possible. His admirers had few chances of catching him alone there. Merlin had sympathy for maidens for the first time in his life.

Because he was relatively cultured-looking for a serving wench, the castle steward had assigned him to serve in the dining hall. That had been his first real stroke of luck.

Merlin went back down to the kitchen for more platters. Cook handed him a large wooden bowl of what looked like stuffed intestines with mushrooms. It smelled terribly. "The lord's table," Cook ordered.

As Merlin made his way to the stairs, he was tempted. In his bodice was a pouch, and in the pouch was deadly nightshade. Sir Elliot, who'd taught him archery, had taught Merlin to recognize the plant. It was sometimes used on arrow tips, but you had to be very careful to avoid it in cuts or letting it linger on your hands. Merlin had never used it thus. But he'd see the plant as he and Arthur crossed the mountains, and he'd picked a good quantity. He could crush the leaves into a paste, and the paste…

Merlin had hoped to be able to slip it into Lord Essetir's food or drink, and now he considered the bowl of food in his hands. But there was no way to know for certain who would eat from the bowl, perhaps even Lady Morgana. He dared not to risk. If he were to use the nightshade, he would have to put it in the lord's cup. But Cenred was a cautious man with many enemies. He had an older male servant who stood behind his chair and poured his wine and filled his plate. No other had leave to be near the lord while he was dining.

Lord Essetir's private rooms were in the northwest tower, but they were also guarded. Merlin had not dared to go there. But his options for accomplishing his goal were dwindling, and his week was nearly up. The longer Merlin stayed in the castle, the more likely it was that someone would discover his secret, or that Arthur would decide to take matters into his own hands and appear to request an audience.

Merlin entered the dining hall with the bowl of sausages and mushrooms. He set it on the lord's table, placing it close to Lord Cenred Essetir. Merlin raised his eyes coyly. The lord was watching him, his mouth greasy as he chewed. Merlin allowed his eyes to heat and linger for a moment. Then he lowered them and started to back away.

"You, wench," Lord Essetir ordered. "Come 'ere."


	16. Chapter 16

**So here it is Folks, the new Chapter. Enjoy reading. **

It had been five terrible days, and Arthur had gone from being beside himself to a resigned calm more times than he could count. Merlin had sent him a message two days ago, through a young boy he'd hired to seek out Arthur in the foothills. Merlin had merely written that all was well. He'd gotten a serving position in the castle and was pleased to have work.

It was a harmless missive that, if caught, would mean little to anyone else, and it was rare that the serving class could read and write. But Merlin's message was clear - he was proceeding as planned. He would not have used the word 'pleased' if things were awry. But then again, Merlin could merely be trying to keep Arthur from doing anything rash. Which was exactly what Arthur wanted to do.

Merlin was endangering himself every minute he was in Essetir's castle. What Arthur didn't know was how careful he was being. He could only hope and pray. Still, he'd agreed to give Merlin a week, and he forced himself to be true to that. A week and no more. If Merlin was not back in two days' time, there would be hell to pay.

Twice, Arthur had ridden Dragoon to within sight of Essetir's castle, watching for any signs of alarm. There were none. The market traffic rode in and out of the bailey's walls as usual. There were no signs of smoke or increased activity.

Bloody Hell, it was the longest, most torturous week of Arthur's life! He would much rather roar into battle and take on an army than wait, helpless. The Lion ached to feel blood on his claws. He was thirsty for it.

It was nearly dark on the fifth day when he saw the boy approaching the foothills on an ancient donkey. Arthur hastened from his camp to meet him.

"Here, sir. From the lady." The boy held out a folded letter. Arthur gave the boy some coins and took it.

From the lady? Was it from Morgana? Arthur hastened to read it.

_Beloved,_

_I wish I could see you. I can picture you waiting to sweep me away at midnight on your horse, at the mill that lies outside the bailey, perhaps. Tonight I will dream on it._

Arthur closed his eyes, the missive clenched in his fist. _Tonight_. Merlin had written coyly, but the message was clear. For whatever reason, Merlin wanted to leave the castle tonight, and he wanted Arthur to come for him. Arthur did not pray oft, but now he sent forth a most urgent prayer: let Merlin do nothing too dangerous between now and then. Let him be safe.

Arthur would give anything - only let Merlin and Morgana be safe.

ooOoo

Merlin approached the two armored guards at the door to Lord Essetir's tower. His heart thumped ominously against his ribs and sweat trickled down his back. He was not afraid of Lord Cenred, but he was afraid of the importance of this moment - that he'd finally gotten his chance - and he was anxious to do the job quickly and well and be away before he was caught.

If Merlin was caught, it would mean his dead.

He'd been granted a rare opportunity to get close to Lord Cenred. The next hour could decide everything. He would not fail.

The guards looked Merlin up and down lewdly, "Here comes the bearded oyster," said the younger one with an ugly leer.

"Be quiet," growled the other.

This man seemed to have a bit more maturity, so Merlin addressed him. "Lord Essetir requested my presence tonight."

The guard studied Merlin for a long moment, and coldly too, as if he was suspicious. "Let me search 'er," the youngest urged.

"Nah. His lordship will have our heads if we touch his wenches. Up with ya." He unbolted the door to the tower and opened it wide. "The door's at the top of the stairs."

Merlin curtsied, eyes downcast, and slipped through the door. When it closed behind him, he sagged with relief. He had bound his dagger against his inner thigh. He was alone on the stairs leading up to Lord Cenred Essetir's rooms, so he took the risk of reaching up under his gown and removing the dagger, which he then placed inside one long sleeve. _There. Far better._

His pulse sounded like a battle drums in his ears. Merlin continued upward. He tapped on the door at the top of the stairs, and Essetir bid him enter.

The door opened onto Lord Cenred's bedchamber. He was alone. A fire burned in the hearth, making the room warm and rank. Essetir wore only a linen shirt and hose as he lounged in a chair by the fire. His legs were outspread and parted. Merlin's mouth went dry. The dagger seemed to burn at his wrist.

"Evening, pretty," Essetir purred. He looked Merlin up and down, but didn't bother to rise. "You look nervous, wench. A virgin's coyness doesn't suit you."

Merlin forced a seductive smile. "'Tis shyness. I only hope I can please you, my lord."

Essetir grunted. "Come here and take my cock in your mouth. That will please me well enough." He spread his legs a little farther and pushed the linen shirt to one side. The outline of his stiffening member was evident in his hose.

Merlin lowered his eyes modestly and bit at his lower lip. "I will, my lord, but may I not first have a kiss?" He kept his eyes downcast, glad for once for the easy heating of his cheeks. They were flushed now from the pounding of his blood in fear and, increasingly, anger. But he hoped Lord Cenred would take it for arousal.

After a moment the man heaved himself to his feet. "Want a bit of courting, eh?" He sounded a little more interested and a little more dangerous.

Merlin looked up into Essetir's eyes and managed not to wince, and then Essetir grasped him with both hands, pulled him in hard, and mashed down his mouth on Merlin's. Merlin gasped, an involuntary noise of disgust and surprise, but Essetir took it as encouragement. He thrust his tongue into Merlin's mouth.

Merlin wrapped his arms around Cenred's neck and set to work with nimble fingers, untying the sleeve of his gown and slipping out the dagger. Essetir's hands began to wander upward on Merlin's bodice. His 'breasts' would in no way pass inspection. Merlin broke the kiss. "Touch my cunt," he said baldly. He tried to look lovestruck and dazed with passion.

Lord Cenred grunted in approval and attacked Merlin's mouth again. His hands changed course and he began to gather the material of Merlin's thighs, pulling up the gown.

_Wait. Wait._

And then one of Essetir's hands was under the gown, groping at the hose on Merlin's thigh. "You wear much clothing," he complained against Merlin's mouth. Merlin barely hear him, his blood was roaring so loudly in his ears.

_Wait._

And now both hands were under the gown, under the gown where the fabric would keep them trapped, if only for a moment. One hand slid to Merlin's arse while the other pushed between his legs.

_Now._

Merlin sensed the moment Lord Cenred felt his cock and balls, bound in the bandaging. His eyes flew open, and in that instant, Merlin did three things. With his left hand, he pulled hard against the back of Essetir's neck, keeping them locked in the kiss, he turned the right side of his body out slightly, and with his right hand, he thrust the dagger with all his might into Essetir's chest, his blade finding a path between two ribs.

Cenred jerked and screamed, his eyes staring with shocked, horrified understanding into Merlin's. But the scream was muffled in Merlin's mouth. Essetir tried to pull away, but Merlin held him firm, both with the hand on his neck and with the dagger impaling his body. The man struggled for what felt like an eternity, but was probably less than a minute. As the life in his eyes began to fade, Merlin broke the kiss.

"For Lady Morgana, from her brother, Sir Arthur," Merlin whispered into Cenred's face. And he was almost positive the man heard him, just before his gaze went glassy. Merlin felt nothing but an icy rage at the man for having so abused those in his charge - rage and a tremendous relief that he'd accomplished the deed.

It was done. Lord Cenred Essetir's lifeless body was limp and terribly heavy in Merlin's arms. Merlin became aware of the blood that still pulsed and oozed, soaking into his gown. He released the dagger and moved to catch the body. Struggling, he dragged it to the bed. He laid it on the floor whilst he turned down the bed linens. He wiped his bloody hands on the sheets where it would not show and then squatted. Panting with exertion, Merlin managed to lift the body into the bed and cover it up. He laid the head on the pillow, turned from the door. With any luck, the fact that Essetir was a corpse and not merely asleep would not be discovered till morning.

Merlin removed his bloodstained gown. He found a basin of water in the room and washed. He used his gown to wipe the blood off the floor, hoping to delay discovery as long as possible, and then stuffed the gore-covered fabric into a wooden chest. When he was done, he found one of Essetir's fresh shirts and put it on over his hose. He put on a cloak and closed it up to his neck, hiding some specks of crimson that dotted the bottom of the white wimple.

Merlin steeled himself for the trip back the stairs, willing the cold rage to leave his face and trying to replace it with a saucy, sated confidence. He closed his eyes and thought of Arthur, of smiling flirtatiously Arthur in the firelight. His hands calmed and his face relaxed. Merlin tugged the cloak more tightly about himself and descended.


End file.
